Diving
by Intervigilium
Summary: A different take to Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts; our hero gets to know the French Champion and realizes there's more to her than her looks. Ongoing project, should be updated soon.
1. Chapter 1

"Yeah, **that** didn't work."

Harry pulled the egg magically through the air, out of the hearth. Hermione looked at him, somewhat exasperated, as she tended to be whenever a mystery was before her and the solution eluded her grasp.

"It's not even warmer? Not a bit?"

"Cold as ever. Check."

"No new inscriptions around it?"

"This is **not** The One Ring, Herms," he started, and after locking eyes with an angry friend, he resumed the matter-of-fact tone for the experiments, "and nope… just the same patterns."

"No sign of…"

"There isn't so much as a single ash around it, Mione! No sign that it was bothered or affected by the fire at all… the thing still looks like it's been polished ten thousand times, one after another," he retorted, throwing the egg like a football over the stairs, so that Ron could catch it. They had the entire Common Room to themselves.

"Be careful!"

"Mione, please," said Ron from upstairs, reappearing after storing the egg safely back inside the boys' dormitory, "you were the one who suggested physical attacks to it last week. Still sounded like a shriek, and we didn't break a shard of it. What's the harm?"

"We don't know anything about it yet," she fumed.

"**You** are not supposed to, anyway," said Harry, pacing towards the nearest window. "Remember? I'm supposed to figure this out by myself… don't get me wrong, you two," he added, "I appreciate the help… but you're not supposed to give me any advice."

"And just what are you planning to do there?" his red-haired friend inquired, joining Hermione at the couches. Harry already had his body halfway out the open window.

"I'm tired… I think clearer – and faster – when I'm flying. See you guys in a while," he finished, throwing himself head-first down the tower, catching his broomstick mentally seconds later in midair.

"_SHOW-OFF!"_

Harry laughed, their voices echoing loudly in his ears. He soared above the inner cloisters, ignoring the many students who followed his every move. He had been attracting a lot more of attention while flying lately, mostly due to the prowess shown during the First Task: he was not liking this effect one bit. As much as he enjoyed Quidditch, flying was meant to be a solitary exercise too, and he knew that all too well. He loved it… needed it as much as air.

Pushing those thoughts away, he tipped the broom up, circling the Charms' classrooms and shooting towards what he assumed was the Ravenclaw's House Tower (at least, that's where they all headed after most dinners).

As much as he tried to empty his head, the golden egg resurfaced before his eyes every now and then. Even though he wasn't as driven as Hermione herself when it came to puzzle-solving, he had to admit this one was nagging at him: the bloody thing just shrieked over and over again, no matter what you did to it!

He wasn't far from those thoughts when a golden egg **flew** right before him, gravity pulling it down, almost hitting the tip of his broom. Even faster than his surprise was his reaction: reflexive as always, the movement came fluid to him, matured, driven: he started a barrel-roll, extending his arm to clutch the object firmly. Harry accelerated, pulling the thing closer to his chest, still aiming the skies. Before he started asking himself how his egg had learned to fly and was now bent on being rescued, he spotted what looked like a waterfall of silvery hair circling on a broom some feet above him. It wasn't that the girl was moving slow… it was just that he was moving too fast.

Fleur Delacour. Unmistakable.

Harry turned around, as quietly as possible, and matched her altitude. No doubt about it… this was not his egg. He wasn't particularly thrilled about the idea of this encounter, though. _"Might as well get it over with,"_ he thought.

"I believe this is yours?" he started, approaching Fleur from a blind spot. Two wrong decisions: one not to announce himself from afar and another for doing so in what (he judged) was an almost casual tone. Three if you took the blind spot thing in account. The girl, surprised, faltered in her balance, almost falling over to the side.

Again it was instinct that drove him: he used the egg-free hand to keep the girl in place, holding her a little bit above her left elbow, clutching the arm.

"Steady," he added. _"That's it, Harry, treat the older girl like a child. That ought to soften her a bit… you idiot."_ He quickly regained his paced self. "You okay?"

"Y, Yes," she muttered, breathing more calmly now, eying the grass so far below them. "I should thank you… that would've been a nasty fall."

It wasn't hard to 'read through' her accent. Harry felt a smile in the corner of his own lips. A guilty one. "It would… and you shouldn't thank the person who almost caused your fall in the first place."

She locked eyes with him. Even though the effects of her charm seemed to be lost when it came to Harry, he would never go as far as to say those curious blue eyes weren't charming in a particular way. Intimidating, to an extent…

"No, really… you shouldn't blame yourself. I need to pay more attention… it's just that I'm not… **used** to this weather of yours. It's so cold…"

Harry laughed quietly. "Foreigners do tend to agree on that," and only then he realized he was still holding her arm. She looked down, noticing it too.

"Sorry about that," he said fast, releasing his grip and handing over the egg, "and I suppose you want this back too."

"Once again, thank you!" she started, accepting the egg but not taking her eyes away from his… she seemed confused. _What was her problem_? "I thought about bringing this… 'clue' along to get inspired… as you can see, it did not work well. Couldn't even hold it properly," she added, securing the egg in a shawl wrapped around her body.

Harry laughed. "Not to worry, I'm not judging… 'been thinking about throwing mine from a cliff too."

It was Fleur's turn to laugh. Genuinely. "Did you now? Tough luck on your assessments too?"

"Tough luck would imply in **some** luck… anyway… I'll leave you to your thoughts, Miss," he sentenced, making the slightest movement to another direction.

"No," said Fleur rather hastily, and then back to a more self-assured stance, "No, stay. I probably wouldn't even have the egg anymore if it wasn't for you… and, as far as I've heard, you were courteous enough to help Cedric at the First Task. So why not repay the kindness? I'm sure that, should I find something up here, you'd deserve it just as much."

"He told you about that, huh?"

"Shouldn't he…?" she actually seemed nervous. Fleur Delacour, nervous… that was a first.

"No… I mean, there's no problem about it… and I'd have warned you and Krum too, if I wasn't sure that you had been informed as well. This is a competition… I would never get a head-start on any of you."

"So I see. By the way… how was it that you knew we'd been informed?" she asked, a somewhat playful smile on her lips.

"Now **that **is a good question, isn't it, Miss?" he replied. Strangely, at ease. She sighed, pretending exasperation.

"Very well… I'll find out eventually. And… you can just call me Fleur."

Harry could be mistaken, but he thought he saw a glimpse of blush on her cheeks. _"OK, NOW you're delusional, mate… as if she'd blush around you. Focus_._"_

"Harry it is to you, then, just as well. Will you do the honors?" he said, pointing towards the egg. She nodded curtly, flicking open the 'petals'.

Shriek. Horrible shriek. Amplified by the heights. Both students grimaced.

"So thin air's a negative," said Fleur, sealing the clue shut and eying it. "What am I going to do with you?" she said theatrically.

"I'd keep it away from the fire. And don't try to make sounds by smashing it with an axe, too… or any cutting or blunt weapon known to man, for that matter."

"Previous disappointments?" she said, sounding amused.

"Depends on the perspective... it's actually quite fun to see an axe splintered into tiny little pieces… granted that none of the pieces hits you in the eye," he added shrugging. Fleur laughed again.

"Boys will be boys… anyway, I've tried fire too… guess we'll have to think a little further outside the box."

"Guess so. There's time to it, though… I actually decided to fly around to clear my head…"

"And I messed up your plans completely," she finished, sounding sincerely sorry. Harry smiled reassuringly… this was a Fleur he was not aware of. Easy to talk to, even…

"Don't go there… it was imaginative of you to bring it here. And at least we know better now. Care to join me? I'm not the best tour guide you'll ever come across, but I can be a quiet company for a flight… looks like you could use some unwinding too… with Champion responsibilities and all."

Fleur smiled broadly. "I would really like that… lead the way, then... Harry."

And so he did… the boy discovered, rather satisfied, that the French student was not a fool on a broom; she moved gracefully and purposefully, weightless and secure. He tried small feints here and there and sudden changes of course, but she never trailed too far behind. _"Fun…"_

It really was fun.

Harry pointed towards the Pitch. Fleur followed him and landed softly, with perfect ballerina moves, walking on a small protective railing by the stands not far from him, just her regular elegant self. He thought she was showing off a bit… and the very thought amused him.

"You didn't have to hold back, you know," she started, hopping down from the railing to rest the egg by a bench, her broom left against the railing, "I've seen you at the First Task. You're a very accomplished flier… perhaps, even, the best I've seen," she finished, smiling the truest smile Harry had seen in her face so far.

"Quite flattering of you, M… Fleur," he corrected himself quickly, "but there are far more gifted fliers around. I really love it, though… I'll give you that. And I'm pleasantly surprised too… I should watch myself against French Quidditch teams, should I ever play against them."

Fleur smiled, a bit stern. "I hardly speak for the quality of France when it comes to Quidditch, _monsieur_… and I'm not a big fan of the sport either."

Harry shrugged. "I can respect that. Flying just for flying… not a lot of people get that."

"Not a lot of them, indeed."

Silence ruled briefly. Both students opened their mouths to speak at the same time, in that fashion that always breaks sudden tensions.

"You first," she offered.

"Actually, I was going to apologize. I should be going now… I've yet to meet some friends and one of them in particular would fancy killing me if he found out I've been spending time with you."

Fleur's smile relaxed and stiffened almost at the same time. "Is it safe to assume that we are talking about your friend who keeps goggling me like a fish out of water?"

"Clever. It's just that... our friendship just recovered from some bumps… and as much as enjoyed the company – and I really did (Fleur returned to her relaxed smile) – I think it's for the best that, if he asks, I just tell him I was alone."

"I can honor that secret," said Fleur thoughtfully, eying him again, "although I have terms of my own."

"O-ho! Do you, now? By all means, then… terms on the table."

"Just one, really… I do hope we can do this again."

Harry was slightly taken aback by this. He raised an eyebrow. "Easy enough… too easy, in fact… what's the catch?"

Fleur laughed in a more timid fashion. "No catch, really… it's just… well, this is rather embarrassing to admit, but I haven't been able to make many friends so far around here… and I don't really care about quantity, it's just that… this Veela side of me… it…" she trailed off, composing herself. "Well, it makes it hard for me to actually know a person. They don't… react like they should. They are not themselves, most of the time, around me. And **you**… well, you don't seem affected by it at all! It puzzles me…"

"In a good way, I hope," he added a while later, to break the tension.

"In an excellent way," she replied, a bit ashamed.

Harry was deeply struck; this was an entirely different person before him… he should have known better than to judge on looks first… how bitter she sounded about her genetic heritage… just as bitter as Harry felt about being famous. Maybe even more…

"_We all need a break. We all need a chance… why not?"_, he thought.

"I know we'll still be competitors tomorrow…" she argued defensively.

"We're still competitors today," he replied calmly. "It doesn't mean we can't respect or even talk to each other. You can talk to Cedric just fine, can't you?"

Fleur did not respond… she seemed surprised by his logic. It was a bit offensive on his end, but not enough for him to feel bad about it.

"Well, rest assured, then… should you ever want some company, I'll fly with you. Anytime," he added, picking up his broom and resting it over the shoulder. Fleur seemed relieved as she shook his hand in a mockery of formality.

"I will hold you to that."

"I expect you to…I mean my word. I guess I'll see you around, Miss."

"Fleur," she corrected him. He laughed.

"I'll work on that."

"And I'll try not to look so dazzling to your friend, so you won't have a hard time keeping our conversations a secret," she said playfully. Somehow, Harry considered, being ironic about her own… 'condition'… was a defense mechanism. How well he had used that weapon in the past…

"Well," pondered Harry, walking away, "in his defense… part Veela or not, I'm not sure you could be less than dazzling even if you wanted. So don't try… he's the one supposed to come around. Not you."

The girl couldn't seem to find an answer to the compliment. Mostly due to the fact that he had complimented **her**… not her heritage… just her.

"I'll…I'll be seeing you then," she managed, feeling stupid and disguising it. Harry waved his hand briefly, before launching himself to the skies, happy for the afternoon's results.

And leaving a very confused (and reasonably elated) Fleur to return to her carriage.

AUTHOR NOTES: This is really just a propaganda to the author "Fledge". It was not asked for, and I could probably be sued (although I hope the tribute itself avoids that, lol...). But I've always considered Fleur a character with lots of unused potential.. and for all I've seen, Fledge makes an excellent (if not the best around here) work when doing that. This is just a rewriting of my own (spoilers-free, even) of how Harry and Fleur could strike up a conversation. It's somewhat similar to her ideas... only from Harry's point of view instead of the girl's. Check the original work as soon as you can...

It really sucks to have so much to do in the real world... I barely had the time to write this down, but it DID remove the writer's block I've been experiencing for a while now... I hope. Good reading, good reviewing, and take care all of you!

Intervigilium


	2. Chapter 2

Harry strode into the library, his mood as cloudy as the day. This was **not** how a Saturday was supposed to be…

It was not impossible for him to enjoy a book, but all things considered, lately he felt a bookshelf would not be one of three things he'd take to an island if he was alone there. Then again, he pondered, grabbing a handful of heavy tomes about various magical eggs, when would a bookshelf ever make it to the top-three items if **he** was choosing?

_Well, I'll be damned… I AM losing my mind_…

Harry laughed mentally, wondering how far that thought had stretched… he was picking up too much from Hermione…

_I need a break from that girl… maybe if I stay away for a while, then those two lovebirds will finally come to their senses and stop…_

Harry's famous reflexes got compromised for a split second, and he dropped a book. Not just any book, but one that, judging by the size, could be a copy of the Holy Bible on (at least) four different languages put together.. **illustrated**. The echo was tremendous, reaching all floors (and certainly, Madam Pince's ears too). Sighing amidst the "shhhhs" and "keep it downs" he received, Harry bent to pick it up, only to find two delicate hands already enveloping the book… hands a Snitch would give up its wings for… Seeker's hands.

Cho's hands.

"You should really pay more attention to your material," she started, timidly playful. "First quills, now books… where will it end, Harry?"

It was interesting to watch her: nervous as he felt, Harry couldn't help being amazed by how lighthearted she sounded… and at the same time, there was something in her eyes… something telling him she was just as nervous as he was… could that be true?

_Yeah… and pigs fly as we speak. And not in Charms' Class…_

"Don't tell anyone, but I've been carrying around an anvil in my backpack for a while… Peeves'll have to reinvent himself to top that," he said shyly (while his conscience cried "_Really? This is what you're gonna go with?"_), taking the book from Cho's hands slowly. Either his timidness added humor to a lame joke or she really did found it amusing. He was not surprised to find that the sound of her laughter was as beautiful as the smile itself…

As soon as he felt comfortable, though, a lead weight pushed him back to the ground… he **had** overheard the gossips. There was no point fooling himself here…

"So how have you been?" she asked. Harry placed the book back on the shelf and browsed for others to disguise his awkwardness.

"I suppose 'alive' is as good a word as I can hope for, nowadays..." he answered truthfully, shrugging.

"And **I** suppose congratulations are at hand! I haven't really gotten a chance to talk to you after the First Task… that was really amazing, you know," she pressed on enthusiastically.

_Don't do this to me… don't be this nice… not when I can't…_

"Lady Luck looked my way, I guess…"

"It was not just _luck_, Harry," she argued, as he turned around to look at her properly, a new, smaller book in his hands, "there's no need for you to be modest about it. You eluded a dragon's watch… not a lot of people can do that."

Out of the blue he remembered Fleur's praising of his flight. He turned his eyes to the table next to him, embarrassed: "I guess… I did have better opponents in the sky, though… far prettier, too," he finished, smiling weakly.

Cho blushed. She thought she knew where he was getting at… she_ hoped_ she knew. "Did you, now?"

Harry looked a bit to the ceiling, in a mockery of prolonged thought, then back to the book in his hand and on into her eyes. He could not help smiling near her… this only made it all worse…

"One does come to mind."

A group of students grew closer. As they passed, some eyes followed Harry and Cho briefly, and the boy knew instantly that their conversation, innocent as it was, was sure to become one of today's whispered topics of gossip, as the small crowd made its way to other isles – and soon enough, out of the library…

Cho, closer to the outer isle, couldn't help picking up most of their whispered voices. "Everyone's really worked up about this Ball," she commented as soon as they were 'alone' again. She sounded uneasy… Harry knew **he** was uneasy…

"Well… you know how 'new things' work around here, Cho… guess it's no exception this time…"

"I guess you're right," she pondered. It was impossible to decipher her now…

_Think of something else to talk about…_

"I… heard you and Cedric are going together," he said. He could kick himself…

_Something other than THAT, you bloody idiot…_

It had sounded like an accusation of sorts… Harry nearly shoved his head back into the shelf to avoid having to read through Cho's emotions again. She stood silent for a while… it felt like a year of deafness…

"How… I mean… well, yes, he… he asked me if I wanted to go with him… earlier today," she finally explained in controlled breaths. She sounded irritated, somewhat. He could tell.

"Word spreads like wildfire here, Cho… don't worry about it, I'm sure you'll… have lots of fun together."

_I wonder if that dragon wants a rematch… would be painless enough… at least less painful than this…_

Every second felt like another hour. He pleaded mentally for her to think of something to say… she didn't even know he meant to ask her… she would _never _know that… second-places were never remembered…

"I… hope we do," she finally retorted, at least thirty possible interpretations to her words, "but… what about you, Harry?"

"What about me?"

She smiled back at him, somewhat demanding... "Who's the lucky girl that will accompany you?"

Harry laughed shortly… it was still too difficult to look at her directly. "Your guess's as good as mine, Cho. I… I haven't really asked anyone yet, really."

"You… haven't?"

He eyed her again. There was so much she could be saying right now… surprise ruled her features. Maybe a bit of lost hope, but that was just wishful thinking on his end… his best guess would be pity…

_Poor little Harry, spineless and, to this second, a Champion of the school going stag to the celebrations…_

"Yeah… you know, there are rumors that Trelawney's been meaning to ask me… I thought she should have a chance…"

_There… hide it, hide it somewhere between irony and jokes… worked so far, right? She's laughing…_

"She's definitely a keeper, Harry…"

"Yeah… listen, Cho," he began, books in hand, "I have to get some work done on that 'egg', so… talk to you later?"

"Oh, sure! I didn't mean to bother y…"

He cut in, smiling. "You didn't… you never do," and with a polite nod he started heading downstairs to retrieve the books properly…

"Hmm… Harry?"

_… Come on…_

"Cho…?"

They stared at each other for a moment, Harry a few steps down already, looking up at her in wait… _She could, at least TRY, not to look this good…_

"It's… nothing. I'll see you around. And good luck on that egg," she said quickly, a weak, reassuring smile on her lips as she moved away from him in soft, hurried steps.

AUTHOR NOTES: Ok, I really was going to just make some propaganda to Fledge with this… after all, if you look closely at this story…

.net/s/1139268/1/The_Secret_Diary_of_Fleur_Delacour_aged_16_34

… you'll see that in the last chapter I just gave some colors of my own to an already well-planned scene. But the feedback regarding it was so positive (really… you guys nearly saved me through one hell of a week) that I've decided to add some scenes I've been giving some thought to for a while… I planned to include some of these in my original story (and God willing and you helping, I may actually do that someday!)

I have to go now, but expect more still this week… I'm actually considering pairing Harry with a different girl at the Ball... will I...? Lol... read and review, I apreciate it very much! Take care all of you,

Intervigilium


	3. Chapter 3

The boy resumed his walk to Gryffindor, lost in that delightful maze that Hogwarts could be. He never admitted to anyone else how the shifting stairs, secret corridors and ever-winding passages gave him a sense of peace that was hard to describe: it was as if the school could be filled with students – as it usually was – and still hold thousands of small islands of solitude here and there – as it usually did – , if you knew where to look for them.

He always preferred choosing random corridors on the way back to his House – that mix of feeling lost and at home, although he never realized it until he was several years older, was one of the things that got him through the nightmares of his adolescence, so much harder than everyone else's as it was – . There was, although not often, peace in his life.

"Monsieur Potter?"

_Then again, I AM a School Champion on what feels like a death match; I have to invite a girl with reasonably low standards to a Ball; and I still wonder which of these tasks is more difficult… _

"Hum… Harry?"

Barely distracted from his reverie, he replayed those last callings in his head, the playful tone of the first, the slightly concerned and affectionate of the second. His stride undeterred, he noticed it was Fleur Delacour who eyed him back on the opposite side of the corridor, from a bench some feet away from him, a closed book on her lap. He waved curtly as to greet her and managed to even smile. Obviously, in his present state he could not keep a look on her and the suit of armor ahead at the same time.

The suit (and his head) got the worst of it.

"Are you alright?" she managed to ask without so much as a hint of pity (Harry was grateful for that). Her laughter could not be avoided though, and he could not blame her for it…

"Just fine," he retorted, ignoring the growing pain at the side of his head while his wand described lop-sided patterns in the air, trying to mend the pieces of metal together before Filch arrived. If not for the helm initially replaced upside down, he figured he hadn't done a bad job. "I'm sorry for that..." he mumbled awkwardly.

"I should be the one to apologize," she cut in with that accent of hers, "you got distracted because of me."

He smiled a crooked smile. "A bit," he confessed, "but I was already on another planet as it was," Harry resumed, laughing slightly of his own embarrassment.

She tilted her head to the side, assuming a therapist's tone. "Hmm… too much on that head of yours already, I see…"

"Quite the mentalist, Miss."

She gave him a curious, critical smile in return. He was quick on the uptake.

"Habits. I'll work on that… Fleur."

"You do that," she resumed simply, smiling. The calmness about her was soothing… something else he was grateful for.

She gestured for him to take the seat next to her. There was still enough distance so that this seemed like a harmless enough conversation… but Harry was sure that, just as it had been with Cho some moments ago, this would not matter much if anyone else entered that corridor. _Two Champions, talking alone? Spread the word, everyone…_

"I haven't really seen you lately... is everything okay?" she asked him, kindness in her eyes.

"Hm? Sure, sure… just, as you said it yourself, a lot to think about." Harry's eyes went to the closest open window as a bird soared into the corridor. There was a mild breeze today… good day to fly.

"And… any progresses?"

He knew what she meant. He eyed his own backpack, filled with books, slung on his shoulder. It seemed like an obvious answer to give, but discussing the task still felt a lot like a gray area… where to draw the line on what can or cannot be discussed with your adversary? Was he even _treating_ her like an adversary?

"I probably should not have asked," said Fleur, at a lower tone. "I'm never sure of what I can or cannot talk about when it comes to the tasks with you… or anyone else, for that matter."

He laughed shortly. "I was just thinking about that," and he scratched the back of his neck while he pondered over the subject. "But we all **have** been respectful enough to share some… 'intel'… so far… no reason why we should stop it."

"Do you really think so?" she asked, beaming. Apparently this was a subject she had been going over for a while, too…

"Well… the whole point of this is strengthening cooperation of magical folk, isn't it? As far as I can tell, that's all we've been doing," he said simply, eyes lost on the floor as he recalled telling Cedric about the dragons.

"Sounds good to me," she said, sounding pleased. "But I'm afraid I don't have any news since our last… 'experiment' of sorts, Harry."

"This," retorted Harry, fastening the catch of the backpack and ruffling the books inside, "isn't exactly my idea of a perfect weekend either," he finished almost moaning, somewhat predicting the research ahead of him. Fleur laughed openly.

"It's not right to have to work so hard with such clear skies around us, indeed," said Fleur thoughtfully. "I haven't been out for what feels like forever… you?"

"Same… it's torture," sighed Harry. Fleur smiled.

"You really do _love _it, don't you? Flying."

"Harry? There's a standing bet on whether he'll grow wings in time or not," a voice boomed at the end of the corridor before the boy could properly open his mouth. He raised his eyes to recognize one of Ravenclaw's Quidditch players coming closer… Davies something…

"Roger," Fleur acknowledged his presence too.

AUTHOR NOTES: I know, this is barely an excuse of a chapter. It's actually halfway through the one I had in mind to post, but I've been experiencing what can only be described as writer's block coupled with really complicated life. I figured I should just let something here before people start handing out "Have you seen this writer log in?" posters around (sighs…)… I know, you have better things to do. Anyway, around the weekend I should have the rest of this up, kay? Take care all of you,

Intervigilium


	4. Chapter 4

Harry searched his brain for any memories of ever talking to Roger; nothing occurred. He did not seem to remember seeing him talking to Fleur either… _"Then again, never really watched her as much as everyone else seems to do,"_ he thought to himself, instinctively shrugging and then, afraid someone would notice, composing himself again.

The tall Ravenclaw approached the sitting students. Harry quietly observed, his Seeker 'ways' adjusting to the moment before he could help it, analyzing, taking in the scene…

There was confidence in Roger's eyes… to anyone who didn't bother looking at them twice. The way his shoulders moved, how the left foot seemed to falter every two steps… Harry knew better; that was a game face if he ever saw one. Whatever reasons brought Roger to that corridor at that moment, they were strong enough to both get him there and make him want to leave screaming at the same time. Given that Quidditch was suspended and he saw no other common interest that would make that boy bother looking for him in the school grounds, there was only one reason why he should be closing in on them… Fleur.

"_Come to think of it, if you're ever sided by a girl like her, you're always the last thing people will be looking for, wherever you are,"_ thought Harry, shrugging again and silently cursing his daydreaming while Roger's blinding smile reached them at last.

"Two Champions at the same place… should I be calling any teachers to see if the Triwizard allows it?" he teased. What surprised Harry the most was that Fleur frowned _first_.

"I don't see any complications… do you, _monsieur _Potter?" she added somewhat nonchalantly, turning around to face the boy with an amused smile.

"None I can think of," he returned, relaxed, while they both focused back on the Ravenclaw, silently waiting. With his joked deemed lame, and his charming entrance shot down, Roger continued, a bit stiffer than before...

"I was only kidding… but I do have matters to discuss with you, mademoiselle Delacour (Harry did not miss the slight flinch the girl gave to the badly pronounced French)… is that alright with you, Harry?" he sentenced, being very clear in his gaze… _leave us_ was written all over it.

The Gryffindor laughed shortly. "If I'm alright with it or not hardly matters, Roger. It's **her** choice whether to speak to you or not, not mine." Then, realizing what a mistake it was to show attitude towards an older, taller and atypical Ravenclaw, he opened his arms defensively, head down as he motioned to stand up, ready to announce he was on his way to give them some privacy.

"Just **where** are you going?" the girl asked (well, rather demanded). Harry stopped in mid movement, almost on his feet but not completely. He looked at her somewhat confused.

"Hm?"

"Didn't you just promise you would show me the directions to the… how is it that you people call it? Owlery?" she inquired, her tone casual enough to conceal to all but the most observant how urgent were her words. There was a silent plead in her eyes that told Harry she knew very well the subject of this conversation Roger meant to start, and was attempting to delay it as much as possible. All this happened in a matter of seconds, while the Ravenclaw eyed both students with a certain amusement.

"Well, absolutely no problem! I can escort you there while we talk, Harry may be freed from his word," Davies added in a hurry, already offering his arm in a mocked chivalry. Fleur looked at his arm as if it was hanging in an awkward angle.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Harry began, a bit uncertain. The look he received in return was nothing short of a dragon's tenebrous guard, as Roger turned his head slowly around…

"And why would that be, Harry?" he asked, forcing the words through his teeth.

"_You know what… I'm actually going to enjoy this… serves you right for being such an idiot right now,"_ the youngster thought. "She doesn't have to go to the Owlery, actually. We… have been summoned to discuss matters of the Triwizard, I had just found her when you walked in," he paused, both to let his words sink and to think ahead. "We still have to find both Diggory and Krum, and… I have been instructed not to tell this to anyone else… and this applies to Miss Del… to Fleur just as well. She was trying to be gentle about it. I'm sure you can understand that."

Roger probably wasn't the brightest Ravenclaw out there, but he was still an eagle: delaying Champions under instruction wasn't a smart move.

"We really **do** have to go, mate… perhaps you can talk to her some other time," suggested Harry, as if to destroy any possibilities rising in the lad's brain. Fleur rose in her delicate, swift ways, eying Harry with a glint at the corner of her eye. She smiled back at Roger.

"Yes, some other time. I do appreciate your understanding, Roger! I'll see you around… and Harry, I believe we should be trying to find the others," she said, leading them away from the bench. Harry nodded curtly towards the Ravenclaw and followed suit.

"Some other time, then," was all that Davies managed to blurt out when both other students were almost out of sight.

As soon as they were out of ear range, Fleur breathed as if deeply relieved.

"Should I ask?" was all he could gather.

"Ah, I've been dodging Roger for the past few days, now," she confessed rather timidly, "I know it's not polite and that at some point he'll notice…"

"_Wouldn't hold my breath on that,"_ pondered Harry.

"… but I know what his intentions are: if not for his ways alone, the whispered talks along the corridors are quite easy to follow. He wants to escort me to the Yule Ball."

Harry pushed open a door leading into the main stairs, letting Fleur in first. He led her a flight up the stairs and signalized a corridor to the left, silently aware of her presence. "Well… is that too big of a problem?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… well, don't get me wrong, I'm really a social disaster most of the time, so I don't always get the… 'dynamics' of human relations," he laughed snappily to avoid wondering why was it that he didn't feel as awkward as he should for admitting that out loud to an almost complete stranger. She was just… _easy_ to be around, no different than it was to be around his few friends. That didn't seem to have anything to do with the Veela gene, though.

"Really? I wouldn't gather that from your improvised 'Triwizard meeting' a few minutes ago," she said playfully, but just in the right amount so he wouldn't feel inadequate about it. "I suppose the rumors are true about you, after all… you really _are_ an escape artist."

Harry's face reddened as if he was a Weasley. "Rumors aren't always tr…"

"I know," she cut in with a hand on his shoulder, without pausing their seemingly directionless walk, "this was my very impolite way of saying 'thank you' for that, Harry." Her smile was simple and genuine. "And I cut you in, yet again… what was it that you were saying?" she asked, her tone open and calm.

"Ah, it's nothing, really… I was just trying to understand why is it such a problem if he invites you to the Ball. I'm sure he would not be the first… it's a safe bet he won't be the last," he pondered, indicating another corridor brightly lit with large, glassless windows. They went in. "You don't like him? That being the case, you'd just have to refuse…"

"Oh, no, I don't have a problem with him. Not the smartest boy I've ever met, as cruel as that may sound, but in the few times we spoke he's been actually quite nice… as nice as most boys get to be around me," she said lowering her voice gradually, almost as if Harry wasn't there.

"Then where lies the need to evade him?" said Harry, leaning his body in front of one of the windows. Fleur took the one next to him.

"I don't know… I actually think that we could have a nice enough time. But sometimes he looks at me in a way that… well, I just don't know," she repeated, more to herself than anyone else once more.

"You don't want to give him any wrong ideas," said Harry, their faces absorbing the wind. Fleur laughed as she eyed him back.

"For someone who claims not to be insightful about human relations, you're pretty quick on the uptake as far as I can tell."

He smiled sheepishly as to say 'thank you'.

"I think that's exactly it, you know," she continued, watching a solitary owl rise using the winds for lift. "I'm always afraid that if I say 'yes' to any of these boys, they'll understand this a sign of something other than just the company for the night. The fact that I even need an escort sounds so ridiculous sometimes! It's perfectly normal for everyone else to go alone if they want to. If given the choice, I'd just go, have a decent meal, dance and laugh with my friends, and consider it a very enjoyable night," she paused for air and saw Harry's expression, "and I'm just shooting words here and you were not prepared for it. I'm so sorry!"

Harry laughed, his hands making small gestures of 'don't worry'. "I don't mind listening one bit (and staring into the nothing as he was, he missed Fleur's smile to this statement)… besides you pretty much described my idea of a perfect Ball too – give or take that 'dancing' thing. Given I still don't have a 'date', going alone does sound really good. That is, until Professor McGonagall decides I've had more than enough time and fix me up with someone for the sake of _tradition_."

To this, Fleur's eyes narrowed a bit. "What?" he inquired.

"Nothing. I just figured that given the number or girls I hear around the corridors building up the courage to invite you themselves, you'd be taken by now…"

His silence and sudden interest in his hands were enough. Comprehension dawned on her.

"… and most of these girls never bothered to say 'hello' to you before this chance of basking under the spotlight next to a School Champion."

"Well, to be fair I'm sure there was a Hufflepuff who _did _say 'sorry' when she bumped into me a few years back in a hallway," he said, shrugging.

"I'm sorry…"

"Oh, no… don't be," he added hastily, eying Fleur briefly. "it's not like I go talking about these things. I don't think I do it at all," he added, staring back at his hands. "But it's fine, really."

"It's not," she concluded. They both inched their heads back into the corridor. "But it will be, I hope. I'm sure there must be still plenty of girls who would love to accompany you just for your company. And I pity those that do not seek this as it is."

"You don't have to be nice to me all the time, you know," he argued, a bit embarassed.

"I'm not being _nice_. If not for the restriction of Champions not being able to invite other Champions, I would've asked you to be my escort already. Wouldn't give you time to refuse," she added, a barely serious look on her face. He laughed.

"They actually have a rule for this?" Harry asked, amused.

"I did look it up," she said shrugging. "Alas… old rules. We can't go alone, and can't attend with our competitors. Regardless of how much fun that would be," she added somewhat sadly, tilting her head to the side.

Harry didn't know how to respond to that… not even in his wildest thoughts would he consider that Fleur would have looked up rules to see if she could be accompanied by _him_. Without an agenda, without compromise, just to have someone to talk to.

_"You are quite the character, Fleur Delacour."_

"Well… in fairness, we'll be sitting close-by, I think. If your escort becomes boring, do tell and we can always argue through the night about how the weather of this island can be damaging to a flight while carrying an egg around."

Fleur assumed a very concentrated face. "I could actually hold you to that." Harry joined her in the laughter. It was easy to do so.

"By the way," he said, pointing at the door behind the girl, "the first door to the left beyond this one… that's the Owlery."

She beamed. _"You are quite the character, Harry Potter." _"Clever, aren't you? I think I'll owl my sister, you know… she's been dying to know a bit more about this place, and to do so with an owl that actually belongs to the school would be rather nice. Oh, but I don't have a…"

"Parchment?"

Harry handed her a piece of scroll, quill and ink from the backpack. "No need to return these, got plenty."

"You **are** far too kind, you know," she said, folding the paper neatly, close to the book she still held.

"Not that much, really," he retorted, hand on the back of his head. "Do you know your way back from here? I should get a head-start on these books, but I can wait to help you out if you want me to."

"Not to worry, I can take care of myself."

"Oh, I know. With a dragon as reference," Harry smirked, fastening the catch of his worn bag.

She gave him a quick wink, before heading for the door. "You know," she added, just before disappearing, "I think before the day ends, we'll have our partners for the Ball."

"Do you, now?"

"I do. All it takes is a little bit of faith, Harry. Remember that."

_"At least you gave me plenty in men today,"_ she thought to herself, smiling.

He never heard those last thoughts, though, as he resumed his stride back to Gryffindor.

AUTHOR NOTES: (JUST RE-UPLOADED THIS, correcting some mistakes! It was late here and I was out of coffee last night...) Dudes and Dudettes! I could have sworn I had uploaded this a while back. I'm really sorry, and I really… REALLY… need vacations. Slightly longer chapter to compensate. I'm not too sure the dialogues are how I wanted, but you people can tell me what you think. Anyway, some considerations to my fellow readers and reviewers:

Some people pointed out that Harry's a bit more charming than he usually is (some of these were two of the nicest, most complete reviews I've ever had, so THANK YOU SO MUCH!). It's just that it's not _hard_ to do so, if you know what I mean. I have NOTHING against the work that J.K. put together, but… I was kind of a nerd back when I was at school, and I could still shoot my hoops and have reasonable conversation with a girl without looking like a complete dork or attempting to replicate a Don Juan. There _is_ middle ground, lots of gray area... and this is how I always thought Harry could be, if he wanted to. But some people make him hit on anything that moves, so if anyone expects to see that, you better move along, I think… not what you'll find here.

As to the direction of the story, I want to give it more substance, I do (including a full background with some mods and an all original plot). Just don't know exactly how to yet, and sleeping 5 hours a day is **not** helping. I'm getting there someday, though…

As for relationships in a wider sense… I still plan on keeping Harry/Fleur (I think it's a challenge, and I like working on it; always had a thing for slightly older women ;) ); but you have to be patient with them. Going to the ball together felt a lot like clubbing them in the head and forcing it, and I like when a story feels real, natural, even when the scenario itself is fantastic. Remember, they barely know each other (and people don't know each other in a glance, and they don't fall in love in a zap, not unless they're in for a world of hurt. Period). They have obstacles. But they are so much fun writing, too, so they're worth the effort. I hope you all feel the same.

Do REVIEW, please… I appreciate it a lot! Thanks for all the support, will try to upload the next part soon.

Intervigilium


	5. Chapter 5

Harry entered the Common Room with a faint grin on his lips, reminiscent of satisfaction. It instantly disappeared as he noticed the commotion around Ron.

"What happened?" he asked, closing in on his seemingly baffled friend.

"The general understanding," said Hermione, in a tone she generally used to people who folded pages of books – or, Merlin forbid, _ripped _them – "is that he attempted to ask that perfect French statuette that everyone seems to adore around here to the Yule Ball..."

Harry frowned. "First, **you**, of all people, judging a book by its cover?," he said, continuing as soon as he saw her mouth open and ready to retort, "And second: what do you mean by 'attempted'?"

"Well, according to the witnesses, he sort of entered this coma-like state he seems to present as we speak," reported Ginny, a perfectly analytic tone in her voice, eying her brother with such undisguised amusement that Harry found it impossible to suppress a smile as their eyes met. "We are all **assuming **that he asked, but no one knows for sure if he actually said the words. He just… _froze_."

"Could it be that she actually **accepted**?" Seamus offered. "I'd be like that if she did."

"I hardly think so," George added. "There are at least _three _Weasleys around here that she could choose from, with more satisfying results."

Everyone else turned around to eye him, counting Weasleys mentally.

"Well, Ginny **is**, by far, the better looking one," he added in a matter-of-fact tone. His sister, although still shaking her head, beamed at him. Everyone else laughed.

"Maybe he was particularly susceptible to the Veela charm today… would not be the first time he freaked out," said Harry, looking at Dean and smiling. They both had been witnesses to the magnificent "Weasley Dive" into a rose bush just about a week ago when Fleur was coming around, some good fifty yards away.

Dean gave him an 8, deducting points for lack of finesse. Harry, a 6, just so he'd try harder next time.

"All too true," Fred cut in, placing a hand in Harry's shoulder. "It's just a delayed reaction to the outburst of his own daring. The shame of it will be a lot worse, so let him sleep it off… and try to find him a date in the meantime, will ya?"

"Yeah, that ought to free him of any shame, for sure," Harry added ironically, as the crowd started to disperse and Seamus and Dean lifted their catatonic excuse of a friend up to the dormitories. Hermione rose to her feet and moved towards one of the tables close to the windows. Harry followed suit.

"Something on that mind of yours?"

"Oh, enough for mine and Ron's empty one," she hissed. _"She's even more stubborn than he is,"_ the boy thought to himself, sighing.

"Why didn't you ask him to go with you, then, so that the balance of gray matter was restored around here?" he suggested. Hermione turned a bright shade of red.

"What are you talking about…? I'm… you know, it's not my place to go asking people to accompany me... and, and just so you know, I'm already going with someone!" she finished hastily.

Harry kept eying her as if she'd just gone mental on him. What, judging by the always-so-collected Hermione, could very well be true. _"So you DO like him..."_

"I'm really sorry… people are all worked up about this Ball and I don't like this atmosphere…"

"Not the first time I heard that," he retorted, Cho's words flashing in his mind. "Not the first time I doubt them, either…"

"What?"

"Nothing. So, you're taken already," he dodged, "congrats. Who's the lucky fellow?"

Suddenly she stood up, seemingly ignorant to his question, mumbling something about homework and rushing upstairs before he could say anything else. "REALLY, Hermione?" he nearly shouted, laughing to himself. He rested the backpack on the table, going over how that entire day had been extremely abnormal. _"She IS right… no one can seem to think about anything other than this B…"_

"Potter!" it was Parvati who sat in front of him, a gentle smile on her lips. Calling each other by last names with her was always a better experience than it was with, say, Malfoy.

"Patil," he greeted, laughing slightly. He had grown accustomed to her bossy ways that never seemed to command at all. Nevertheless, Parvati was a free spirit; over the years, very little about her was different, as far as Harry could see. She was still one of Gryffindor's poster girls, always beautiful, always perfectly dressed and talking animatedly to her friends. At least, that's what she preferred to let the world see.

"I gather that you have a date to the Ball," she said, flashing one of her happiest smiles.

"News do travel fast here," he joked, elbows on the table, arms crossed.

"Even faster when you happen to have one of these," she joked, showing a small, unframed mirror where the traces of her sister Padma's face still lingered in smoky patterns. "I talk to her all the time with this. Which is good, since we ended up in different Houses, but not as useful in exams as you'd think it would be. Professors actually don't allow it, can you believe it?" she added mockingly.

"The absurd…"

"All that nonsense aside," she began, pocketing the small mirror, "I'm really glad that you invited her, Harry. I know the… circumstances of the invitation were quite…"

"… 'unusual' will work."

"But still, it was really thoughtful of you. I prefer that she goes with someone that I trust, and I know the two of you will have fun."

He grinned back. "Privilege's mine, Parvati. And I'll be a real gentleman, I promise."

"Oh, I know you will. You're far too scared of me not to be," she said simply. Harry laughed, but had to agree. _Right there_, he thought, was the adamant redeeming quality about her, should anyone ever choose to accuse her of being a shallow or futile girl; Parvati was _ferociously_ protective of her sister, acting most of the time as a mother and not a sibling.

Even though their ages varied in the matter of minutes, it never ceased to amaze Harry how different they were on daily basis. Where, in a sense, Parvati lit the environment with her ways, Padma had a more silent, contemplative presence. She made herself remarkable on insight, not on flare; as if Parvati was a gun blast and Padma the quiet burning of a candle.

These particular traits, added to the 'bookworm' mark of a true Ravenclaw, led Padma to be hazed quite frequently by jealous and less talented (not to say those that only cared about being outshone by her Indian beauty) students, although this was always kept extremely under the radar. Her good-willed nature hardly allowed her to respond, and that was when Parvati usually stepped in, lioness in defense. Many were the times where she had arranged some kind of detention to herself out of mischief against (in most cases) Slytherin girls…

It was mostly due to that kind of prejudice that Harry had found Padma that day…

AUTHOR NOTES: Thanks again for all the support, people. The how, the when, and where of Padma's acceptance on the next chapter. I'm really tired, the moon is out and I want to ask my girl out to walk around the city :)

DO REVIEW, please. This is how I learn and get better. Hope to hear from you soon.

Intervigilium

P.S.: I had this ready Saturday night and was, unfortunately, among the people who couldn't seem to update stories for the past few days. And **desiwizard**, to which "original" did you refer to? Other than the twist I made on **fledge**'s scene (already explained it), this is an original (although not a very good one, I'll admit) story...


	6. Chapter 6

_Earlier…_

Turning around a corner he saw her trying to remove what appeared to be two of her books from the very _wall_ (apparently, someone thought it was a fun trick to meld them in). Exhausted and out of ideas, she just collapsed her back against the rock, sitting on the floor.

"Rough day?" he inquired, sitting next to her. Surprised to see him, she just mumbled a "Hey, Harry," wiping what appeared to be a solitary tear beginning to slide down her cheek.

"You could say so."

"Interesting art form. Doubt Filch would approve, though," he said, poking the books now a little bit over his own head.

"My thoughts exactly. Prefer to have them out before he gets a chance to see it," she said placidly, disguising her nerves.

"How did they get there?" he said, shifting to examine the books a bit closer. _"What was it that Hermione kept babbling on about transfigurating and rune engraving…?"_

"Ah, who knows… this **is** Hogwarts, Harry. Stranger things have happened."

He eyed her back. "Padma..."

"Don't, Harry... just don't." She seemed tired. "Not worth the trouble."

"You know," he said, describing a small symbol which started to glow at one of the book's covers, just to disappear a while later. He cursed silently before continuing… "I get the whole 'taking the high road' thing, Padma, I really do."

"Why do I sense a 'however' coming…?"

"Because it is," he retorted, trying another pattern. Nothing happened. "At some point… you just have to _start fighting back_."

"You would know," she replied, laughing shortly. "Never really see you exercise restraint when it comes to Malfoy and his friends."

Harry laughed too. "Hey! I restrain myself much more than they deserve."

"I'm sure you do."

Harry decided to give up on saving the books; the last resort he had could either work or liquefy them, and that wasn't a chance he was willing to take. Instead he stood up and offered a hand to Padma. "We should find Prof. Minerva, she'll know how to get them out."

"Indeed, Potter," came a voice behind them as soon as they were both back up. "Hogwarts doesn't see with good eyes students who use their knowledge to predate the school."

She was followed by several 'minion giggles'. Harry sighed. _"This is getting really old…"_

"Pansy. Would love to say I'm surprised," he said, turning to meet the newcomers, shielding Padma partially with his frame.

"Surprised? What could you possibly mean, Potter? This corridor is one of my everyday routes… I'm always here."

"I'm sure that the corridor itself is deeply saddened by this fact, but there's only so much it can do to change things, even in Hogwarts," he shot back, calmly but unable to run around circles. _"She makes this far too easy…"_

Taken aback without a poisonous reply, she glared. "You didn't look so smart trying to remove those books just now, did you?"

"Certainly. But neither will you, once I call Professor McGonagall and she decides how to punish you for putting them there in the first place."

"And how exactly is she going to do that, Potter?" she whispered in defiance.

"Did you know that wands have memories, Parkinson?"

Silence. The kind you feel that may take a while to end, but you really wish it didn't. Harry was actually enjoying it…

"What do you…?"

"Memories," he said, determined not to let her waste any second thinking more than she needed to. "A wand stores inside it a memento of spells recently cast through it. It's actually quite easy for an accomplished wizard – such as any of our professors, I think – to figure out the patterns of the last spells a wand helped to perform. But I'm sure that, being innocent as you claim to be… you wouldn't mind to have your wand tested, would you?"

It could be a bluff and he knew it… but one worth trying.

Pansy froze in place, the mask completely off. Harry stood there, perfectly still between the Slytherins and Padma. It terrified him a little, the seemingly directionless and wicked ways these girls displayed. Making other people's lives miserable just because they couldn't seem to have the life they felt they deserved. All too familiar, all too close to Privet Drive. _"Dudley must have his ears red by now."_

Slowly… deadly slowly… Pansy headed for the wall and muttered some strange incantation. Seconds later, she dropped the books on the floor, turned around and signaled for the others girls to follow her.

"This… is not… over, Potter," she hissed.

"Oh, I'm sure it isn't," he said to no one in particular as they disappeared. He picked up the books and handed them to Padma. She did not seem pleased.

"Something wrong? Any other books _cemented _around here?"

"No… and I do appreciate the help, Harry, don't think that I don't… it's just…"

"Just…?"

"Not meaning to be ungrateful, but… I think _this_ will only make it worse."

"It won't."

"You can't be sure of that," she replied quietly, heading down the corridor. Harry followed by her side, fastening the catch of his backpack. As if sensing her explanation hadn't been enough, she went on: "Look, it's just that I can't always expect you, or my sister, or anyone else to jump and help me…"

"Well, that's kind of my point… _don't_."

Padma eyed him somewhat angrily. He didn't bother stopping. "Come on, Padma… you're smarter than all those girls combined… **and** their future children."

Took a few seconds for the statement to really sink in, but she laughed, visibly less tense. He smiled. "See? You know I'm right… so start acting so."

They locked eyes and Harry could see that she wanted no more than to be able to do just that…

"I will try. Promise," she said simply. "Anyway… this is me."

They had reached a T-ended passageway. The Ravenclaw indicated left, the Gryffindor right, both smiling. Theirs was the domain of towers, only in quite opposite sides of the school. It was only as she was making the first step away that it hit him…

"_Why not?"_

"Hey, Padma…"

He felt like choking and all of a sudden this didn't seem a brilliant idea anymore. He had been loud enough for her to turn on her heels, though.

"Harry?"

"_Come on, you bloody idiot, she's just your friend… not like you'll die if she doesn't want to accept… Hell, maybe just a little."_

"Look," he took a moment to get the words right... "are you attending the Ball with someone, already?"

She stared at him, more thoughtful than anything else. "No, not really… Anthony asked me, but he's been such an idiot lately that I – as politely as I could – refused. Some friends of mine are alone too, so I'll think I'll just go with them."

"I see. Well, is it too late to reconsider that plan of yours?" he asked, a hint of a smile in his lips, embarrassed to the bone. _"Who are you?"_

Padma stared at him silently for a few seconds. She could very well guess where he was getting at, but it was a safer bet to allow the words to be properly spoken before jumping to conclusions. "I suppose not... but what's the alternative?"

"Let me take you to it. Grant me the honor, that is," he added hastily, in what he deemed a catastrophic attempt of sounding casual. Padma's smile grew slowly, suspicious.

"You want me to go to the Ball… with you?"

"Okay, I know I'm not the best Champion and all, but I'm not that bad," he joked. _"There you have it… who else could I try to inv…?"_

"Oh, no," she blushed furiously, "forget that nonsense… I'm not supporting Cedric any more than you… we all know you didn't really sign up for this… well, those of us with a brain," to which he smiled gratefully, "but… let's face it… we don't hang out that much either, Harry, so…"

"So…?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but fell silent. Taking a few steps back the way she came, closing in on him, she looked deeply into Harry's eyes, searching for any signs of the dark places she had come to fear the worst; feelings she did not need, nor want, on people staring back at her.

"I just don't want you to invite me for the wrong reasons," she resumed.

"Such as…?"

"Harry… are you sure you're not just asking me to go with you out of…"

And although she couldn't say the word, he knew it was _pity_. Perhaps, in a minimal level, this was a way of trying to keep an eye on her, make her feel safe. But there was so much more than that… he needed her right now much more than she needed him… even if just as someone to share the firing squad with.

"Look," he said, forcing her to keep eye contact, "did you happen to consider that, precisely because we don't spend much time together, this would be a good idea?"

She looked confused. Harry looked quickly out the window, building the phrases in his mind, addressing her just a second before their eyes met again: "Padma, you're a bright, intelligent girl, you're fun to be around, and (although he blushed furiously and looked away again while his speech grew in speed and lowered in volume, he maintained his resolve) _ifthatalonewasn'tenoughyou'rereallybeautiful_. My point is… you're just about as perfect a company as I could hope for. Not just to represent the school, but to actually enjoy the party with."

She smiled weakly, acknowledging the difficulty this represented to him as well… the compliments he paid her, even if not openly admitted, had managed to completely wash away the bad memories of that day. But since all she did was smile in that puzzling manner, Harry assumed he was going to listen the "I'm so sorry" speech and braced himself.

"But I get that it's a lot to ask in such short notice, so I'll guess I'll…"

"Yes."

"_What was that again…?"_

"Hm?"

"Yes. As in 'I would like to go with you, Harry'," she said, beaming.

He couldn't really decide on what to say. Chose the wiser reply he had available...

"_Are you sure_? In fairness, I have to tell you, this could get ugly to your feet," was all he could gather. He was _positive_ he could hear crowds cheering somewhere... and was pretty sure that, in real time, he was screwing up his own effort.

Luckily, she wasn't. Padma laughed. "Yes… it would be pitiful to see all that speech go to waste," she mocked. "And as far as dancing goes, Harry, there **is** time before the actual event. We can go over the basics if you'd like," she added, her timid self restored but somewhat equalized to the moment.

"That would be great, actually." He sounded truly relieved. Asking for Professors MgGonagall or Trelawney for dance classes didn't really seem to make his spirits rise…

"Deal. I really have to go now, so… talk to you soon?" she asked, a foot back, preparing to turn around, books close to her chest.

"Sure. Take care, Padma."

"You too, Harry," she added as a final note, her smile a portent of things finally going his way. Someone wanted him dead, there were nightmares at night, obtuse, but loyal friends and cunning enemies in collision routes around the bend. Right now, though, none of that seemed to matter. Right now he was just a kid asking a friend out. _And that was enough._

_Back at the Common Room… _

"What about you?" he inquired. Certainly Parvati was not considering her sister's alternative of going alone, but as far as Harry knew, none of his colleagues had made the first move yet. In the chess game that begins days before a Ball, it seemed to Harry that the Gryffindor before him was on par with girls like Fleur for the time being: a (not-so) silent Queen, dancing at all directions as she pleased, but still waiting for a King moving far too slowly, still one square at a time.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I'm going to invite Weasley," she said nonchalantly, eyes on a cloud coming closer to the castle.

"Which one?" he asked playfully, but at the same time pondering.

"Ron," she retorted, in a tone that clearly stated that all other alternatives meant Harry was crazy.

…

"You seem surprised."

"Sort of am," he confessed. "I'm not above understanding the opportunity to bond (somehow, a big part of why he had invited Padma in the first place, if he was being honest…), but I hardly ever see the two of you talking."

"Well," she started, eyes back to the table and then focused on Harry again, "to be honest I was – as I'm sure you were too – expecting that he would invite… well, you know…"

"I know," he smiled. _"She's nobody's fool."_

"… but fact stands that he didn't – fancied himself a Champion, for that matter – and now, if the rumors are true – and they usually are – she's taken. _Her, _I mean. Not the French lady."

"It would appear so."

"In the meantime, Dean only has eyes for Ginny, even if he doesn't admit it. Neville has his eyes set on something and only he knows what it is, but he has Dean's dream girl as his date," she shrugged, as if Life had its ironies for everyone.

"Seamus?"

"Only seems to care about how much alcohol will be involved in the party," she half laughed, "which is a pity because he looks a little easier on the eyes this year. If he so much as mention _streaking_, Hannah Abbott owes me a Galleon."

Harry shook his head, terrified with the possibility.

"_You _went and got the second hottest girl in school as your date (to this, Harry laughed out loud)… and then, there was Weasley. In a coma and charming as ever."

"What about other Houses?"

"You have to be kidding."

He laughed shortly of her 'patriotism'. "I get it. So…"

"So… I figured I'd just invite him myself… as soon as he is functional again, of course. He's a bit of an idiot sometimes, but aren't you all at this age?" she said sweetly, causing Harry to glare.

_Girls…_

AUTHOR NOTES: I should tell in advance I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter… but decided to do a little bit of research with all of you. I'm pretty sure I got the characters like I wanted them, but some parts… well, I'll let you read, REVIEW, and tell me how does it look.

I'm almost positive the Ball itself will require more than one chapter… why? That's for me to know and you to guess, at least until the chapters are out. I'd like to use the opportunity and thank for all the support I've been getting. Keep it up, I'll try and do the same.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Intervigilium


	7. Chapter 7

"Did anyone see my shoes?"

"Honestly, mate," Seamus argued, "if there's one thing you don't have to worry about people looking at, is your shoes."

The other boys glared at him, contemplating briefly Ron's image on the mirror. _"Travolta must be rolling on his grave," thought Harry._

"It has… _presence_," offered Dean.

"Don't you mean _panache_?" Seamus added, receiving a not-so discrete shoulder to the ribs from Neville.

"Let's face it; I look ridiculous," said Ron miserably. "I'm pretty sure this is what my father used to wear when he was still trying to get my mother to go out with him."

"Makes you wonder how he pulled it off, heh?" said Seamus yet again, offering a playful pat on Ron's shoulder. Harry eyed the others and knew they were all trying to figure out how best to keep Seamus' 'wisdom' away from Ron tonight.

Ron just sighed, head bent. "Hey, chin up. You're a Weasley," said Harry, grabbing his jacket. "You got Parvati asking you to go with her. That's a feat none of us accomplished… maybe that suit's _lucky_ after all."

He knew he had tossed that one **way** over the boundaries of truth. But Ron was so keen on believing anything other than reality right now that he actually beamed, adjusting the tie closer to the neck.

"That I did, didn't I?"

"You sure did," he added, pulling the jacket up his back with his arms and adjusting it around the neck. He eyed the others as if to say _Go with it!_ "Look, I gotta go… have to meet Padma yet and…"

"Yeah, yeah, go be our Champion."

"Try not to trip a lot."

"Make sure to compliment her shoes."

They all stared at Neville after that.

"Well… I've been told girls like that and… never mind," he said quickly, turning to look for his tie.

Harry smiled as he said his 'laters' and 'see yas' and closed the door behind him, just barely catching Dean's and Neville's playful shoving to the sound of "Neville, you ladies-man on the closet!"

He crossed the Common Room trying not to notice the stares he attracted. He was nervous enough as it was to start worrying if he forgot his pants or was wearing too much – or worse, _not enough _ – perfume. He nodded politely to a group of girls who giggled furiously after that (_"Being a Champion ought to allow me to shoot people for that kind of thing…"_) and disappeared through the portrait, seeing no sign of Hermione anywhere. _"Why didn't she just tell me who she was going with?"_

The boy crossed several corridors of his preference, mostly unknown to the general crowd on daily basis. He agreed to meet Padma a bit closer to her House; it felt appropriate to escort her all the way back. She had been amazing not only on accepting to go with him, but a true witch (in the sense of working miracles, of course) at their few and short private dance lessons – Harry hadn't damaged her feet beyond repair and, according to the increasingly approving Ravenclaw, would be able to enjoy himself on the dance floor _as long as he loosened up_.

"Are you sure you know who you're speaking to?" he had argued that same day. Her answer was laughter.

Harry stopped at the corridor they'd chosen. He adjusted briefly an improvised wand holster of his own making under the sleeve, occupying the length of his right forearm. It was very discrete and comfortable, he had to admit. And should any… 'need' arise, he'd just twist his wrist in a certain way and have the wand shot into his grasp. It had been a suggestion (and design) from Sirius, so that he wouldn't be caught off guard just because he was at a party – although his godfather seemed far more interested in passing on knowledge of good places to hide a couple inside the castle than actually keeping the boy alive at all times, regardless of how much Harry reminded the man that Padma was just a friend…

That accomplished, Harry had his hands on his pockets and waited. It wasn't long before steps sounded and… a couple entered the corridor, apparently immersed in small talk and tense smiles.

"_Of course they'd come through here…"_

"Harry," Cedric called, smiling as the luckiest man in the world… Cho mimicked his greeting half a second later, although in a more timid fashion. Her grip was loose just above his elbow… at least no holding hands… yet.

"Cedric… Cho," he began as they stopped, swallowing his pride. _"She's with him… so get it together, you moron. So what if she smells great?"_ He nodded towards a large part of the castle seen through the windows. "Heading downstairs?"

"We are, indeed. McGonagall said we're supposed to stay somewhere else unt…"

"…il everyone gets to the ballroom, yeah," Harry added, nodding curtly. "I'm just waiting for Padma myself."

"Would you like us to wait with you?" offered Cho gently, with Cedric's apparent approval. _"Her hair looks pretty like this… damn! GET IT TOGETHER!"_

"Ah, no, that's okay… she may take a while and… well, we'll be right with you, don't worry." He even managed to clench a smile somewhere along that line.

"Don't keep us waiting long, then," said Cedric, again that grin. _"It IS kind of hard to hate him… damn…_

"Will try not to."

And then, just as they were leaving… _"Ah, what the hell… she does… she should know."_

"Uh, Cho?"

"Harry?"

"You… look beautiful," said Harry simply, but as truthfully as he could. She smiled broadly back at him, although a bit unsure of how to thank him in front of a boy who must have used the same words a few minutes ago to describe her. Harry noticed the confusion and used the best weapon he had…

"You too, Cedric. Very dashing." _"Dashing… God…"_

The couple laughed, at least. "Right back at you, Harry," said the Hufflepuff enthusiastically.

"Indeed," Cho added, appraising him, and Harry couldn't help blushing – and wishing for instant death, "although you don't need to, you both clean up good."

With a last smile (the girl's still a bit more tense), Cedric and Cho made their way down the corridor and out of Harry's sight. He lowered his head almost to the point of reaching his chest with his chin, losing track of time.

_"If I'd been faster… braver…"_

" Harry?"

He lifted his eyes…

AUTHOR NOTES: I was feeling a little guilty for not posting anything in a while, so this is a little taste of the coming extravaganza (where did that come from?). In justification (if any) everything's been really rushed up here. Tell you what… get me some reviews telling what you think. The more I get, the guiltier I'll feel if I don't post anything soon, hahaha! Not kidding.

Would like to thank all the alerts, and favorite tags I've been receiving as well… it means a lot more than I'm able to put into words. Hope to hear from you all soon.

Intervigilium


	8. Chapter 8

"Harry?" repeated the voice, the 'h' barely pronounced. For all he cared right now, she could just delete it at will.

It was hard to maintain composure at the sight; the Gryffindor had to summon his full willpower just to keep the jaw in place and eyes focused.

It was Fleur. One hand casually touching the wall at nearly shoulder height by the end of the corridor, the graceful arm relaxed, her whole body wrapped in such a perfect stance that it was hard to believe she had ever spent a moment in her life that wasn't solely dedicated to the study and practice of how to look devilishly appealing. Graceful and provocative in a singular moment.

"_Okay, I knew she was beautiful, but… damn…"_

He didn't consider himself a shallow person (although the appeal that a certain Ravenclaw had over him, he knew, certainly had much to do with her being gorgeous in his eyes), but right now he didn't feel any better than all the boys who eyed Fleur daily, and the thought made him instantly sick. _"I'm better than this,"_ he told himself, straightening up to greet her with a friendly grin.

She closed in on him, her heels clicking softly against the stone floor, smiling, the dress flowing and molding as if the fabric was air and the girl was but a breeze. But the smile on her face wasn't altogether relaxed…

"Hey there."

"Bonjour, mon ami," she said simply, trusting him to understand some basic French by now. On the few occasions they crossed paths during the last few days she always insisted on some form or another of introducing her language (luckily for him, Hermione wasn't far most of these times).

The light around them seemed to bend and head towards her, somehow. Harry blinked his way into focus again. "Bonjour, mademoiselle," he risked. She laughed, amused.

"Almost there! A very nice effort, nevertheless, thank you," she beamed, visibly more at ease. "Are you lost?" Fleur asked, eying both sides of the corridor to verify that they were, in fact, alone.

"You **do **realize I actually study here and _you_ are the foreign student, don't you?" he teased. Dodging the not-so playful tap with the tip of her purse she aimed at him, he added, still leaning against the wall: "I'm just waiting for my date, we agreed on meeting here. Are _you_ lost?"

"Please… much like you, I was heading to meet my escort. I saw you from there," she pointed the way she came from, "and decided to say hello before we actually met at the event. And who knew?" she added, grabbing one of his hands to twist him on the spot, before he could react, "English boys actually know how to dress for a party." She laughed gently of his awkwardness as he mumbled something under his breath.

"Good enough for French standards?" he couldn't help but quip.

"Oh, I'd have done a better job on you, no doubt," she frowned in mocking analysis, "but good _enough_, definitely. Just about enough." He just sighed, in temporary defeat.

"I'd best be going… my date is probably waiting for me and I pride myself on being punctual."

To Harry's apparent puzzlement, she sighed theatrically. "Why is it that the girl is always supposed to wait for the boy? I'm perfectly content to take a few steps and make my way to see him, if I must. And I like my walks," she added as an afterthought.

"Even in cold, dull Hogwarts?" he smiled defiantly. He'd get her to admit she liked something about that place if it was the last thing he'd do in his life.

"A walk is a walk anywhere in the world, Harry," she shrugged elegantly.

"Right… so it's safe to gather your escort is a Ravenclaw, then?" he asked after a small silence. Seeing that they were both in the same general area it wasn't exactly a stretch. Draco could have added that up.

"Right you are. None other than Roger, actually… decided he deserved a chance, after all," she added simply, seeing some confusion in Harry's eyes. His judgment seemed to matter a bit more to her, it seemed... although she wouldn't admit it openly just yet.

"Well… I trust you make a fair assessment of people. He's an envied man within these walls tonight, that's for sure," he said playfully, seeing that quieter and genuine smile of hers suddenly back.

"I'll be sure to remind him you said so," she beamed. "Make sure you're not late," she said, putting a quick peck on his cheek, "and that you are a perfect gentleman to your dame," Fleur added, winking. "À bientôt!" she said aloud, halfway down the corridor already.

"Âh… bienow, what?"

She laughed, footsteps echoing soft as snowflakes. "See you soon, Harry!"

"Oh. Right."

AUTHOR NOTES: just so you don't say I'm not cruel… consider this and the last a single chapter if you must. Thanks for the reviews so far, people, appreciate them (by the way, does anyone know why I stopped receiving e-mail notifications about reviews and favorite alerts in general? I didn't really change anything in my profile.. I think…), specially those I notice that have been following me for a while now. Stick around, I'll try to keep up. And remember.. I'm _building _a relationship here… will try to speed it up as I can, teenagers hardly need much incentive as it is, hahaha! By the way, **werewolf007**, should I need some help with a few French lines, the offer still stands?

Read and review when possible. Thanks for the faith, hope to hear from you soon.

Intervigilium


	9. Chapter 9

Harry was looking out the window, still reliving the last conversations he had, wondering if he should have suggested a different place for Padma to find him. That corridor seemed particularly crowded today… Fate had its slips, it seemed.

"Having second thoughts?" a delicate, good-natured voice asked him.

Brought back to reality, the boy spotted yet again someone by the end of the stony passage. She dressed simply, but with elegance. There was no exaggerated make-up on her face, and her hair was loose, gliding in lines along the shoulders. Harry realized briefly (and scared himself to acknowledge this in such absolute terms) that before him was that kind of natural beauty that required little to no effort to make itself noticed. Not unlike the previous female occupants of that same spot that day, but with a singularity that shunned comparison.

He smiled back at her, walking towards Padma Patil. "None whatsoever."

Padma looked hesitantly happy; the way her hands were joined gracefully in front of her, how she shifted her weight from one foot to another almost invisibly, the eyes roaming slowly through Harry, the walls, her own hands, ever fleeting… for someone connected to books almost to a genetic level (not unlike someone he knew much better…), that petite Ravenclaw was very hard to read sometimes.

"I'm glad," she breathed, her slight accent a bit more pronounced. "I'm sorry it took so long to get here, Harry, some girls were holding me back at the dorms. Did you have to wait much?"

"Just got here myself, don't worry," he said. It wasn't a lie, all things considered. "Do you need to stop anywhere else before we head for the Entrance Hall?"

"Not at all," she shook her head softly, pondering.

"Then, if you'll be so kind," said Harry playfully, stuffing his chest and offering his arm. Padma's thin grin stretched into a beautiful smile.

"You are such a goof," she said as they both laughed, visibly more relaxed, holding on to him weightlessly just above his elbow.

"Hey! This is how a gentleman behaves… or so I'm told," he said almost seriously. She snorted, as gracefully as possible.

"You know, you should have tried these funny remarks against the Horntail. Would've been quite a show."

"It would. I always thought I'd make killer barbecue material."

The small talk carried them down some flights of stairs. Then something she said earlier caught Harry's attention. "So if you don't mind me asking, what did those girls at the dorms want with you?"

"Oh," and to this Padma turned a lighter shade of pink, "just girl talk, you know?"

Harry laughed shortly. "Actually, I don't, but I'll take your word for it." She didn't seem eager on taking the subject further and he felt perfectly fine with that. Padma, he had figured lately, was easy to deal with as long as you didn't push. She needed safety to approach matters on her own terms.

It wasn't long before they reached the Entrance Hall. Harry noticed that several groups of students were gathered here and there, and that most of the conversations turned into whispers as they moved around, girls looking at the Ravenclaw from head to toe, boys looking at the Gryffindor with some form of superiority in their stare. He gave Padma a reassuring smile that he didn't feel to be exactly strong – he hated that kind of thing more than anyone else – but he needed her to be calm about it, if possible more than he was trying to be.

Professor Minerva, her uncanny sight on par with Moody's magical eye, spotted them in the growing crowd and raised her hand. Harry led the girl to her.

"Potter, Miss Patil," she greeted them efficiently. The stern look she gave them did not disguise the thinnest of smiles on her face. "Follow me."

She then walked ahead, turning on a small corridor and indicating a door. "We arranged a room for Champions and their companions," the woman explained. "You must wait there with the others, I believe Diggory and Miss Delacour are already there; I'll come for you soon enough." She then turned on her heels and headed back to the Hall, surely to hunt down Viktor Krum and his escort, whoever she was.

Harry eyed Padma, who shrugged simply. Opening the door slowly, he let her in first, closing the door behind them. It was a small office, it seemed, just a place to keep the Champions isolated. Comfortable chairs and couches here and there, a wooden table filled with a variety of appetizers and beverages, a recent fire crackling by the hearth. And, sure enough, two Ravenclaws, a Hufflepuff, and a Beauxbatons student smiling back at them.

"Feeling outnumbered, Harry? Three Ravenclaws so far amidst the Champions," said Roger with a confident smirk, sitting somewhat close to Fleur (who had smiled kindly when they entered the room), but with no immediate contact.

He wasn't entirely sure he liked the tone the boy had used (and from the look on Cedric's face, he wasn't the only one).

"Yes, we have been known far and wide for our ability to make good company," said Padma, shoulders up in acceptance of the fact. Her crooked smile won the crowd; they all laughed (and Roger was apparently too distracted to see the irony, smiling along).

Harry was once again amazed by her ability to break ice. They smiled at each other, a silent "I'm sorry" in her eyes for Roger's arrogance. Their attention was soon turned to the other couples, though – Harry excused himself to get some fruit punch for Padma, trying his best to avoid looking at Cho. _"Not that she makes it any easier for me…"_

When he returned, a common dynamic at these situations had ensued: Padma had closed in on Cho (being Housemates, it was natural to assume they knew each other better) so they could 'catch up'.

"I like your dress, Cho," she said truthfully, making Cho smile and return the compliment, adding Padma's delicate bracer to the sum.

And then, to everyone's surprise, Harry's date turned to meet Fleur. "And that necklace of yours is beautiful," she said simply, almost shy.

Fleur's eyes sparkled differently. She traced her fingers carefully along her neck. "Thank you, ma chérie! It belonged to an aunt of mine… it is a personal treasure, very… how is it that you say… _dear_ to my heart," she resumed, her words clearly honest. She seemed to appreciate Padma's attempt to include her: the Ravenclaw noticed. In their short encounters Harry always spoke very highly, although he didn't speak much at all, of his French adversary.

"Would you like to see it?" Fleur asked, already on her feet and away from Roger. As if on cue, Cedric eyed Harry and they both excused themselves to find a particular food tray – their absences were barely noticed.

"Makes you wonder," said Cedric, pouring some punch in two glasses and handing Harry one, "how is it that they come up with new stuff to tell each other every single day. I saw Padma and Cho talking to each other just a few hours ago!"

Harry could only laugh and sip his drink; the three ladies were already absorbed in deep conversation, it seemed. Took Roger a few extra seconds to realize he would not be privileged with the feminine presences and he joined the Champions, looking disappointed.

"Don't worry, Roger, soon enough Krum will be here and we'll all be on our way," the Hufflepuff said, turning his attention back to Harry, rolling his eyes when Davies was distracted. Harry, again, hid his reaction on the punch.

"Any clues on who's Krum's date?" he asked.

"Not really," Harry retorted. "I don't think I actually saw him speak properly."

"Not that he actually needs to," Cedric smirked, shaking his head. "I think that if he invited one of the professors even _they'd_ giggle like teenagers. I don't suppose there's a girl in this school who'd think twice about attending the Ball with him."

"Don't let Cho hear you," suggested Harry, leaning against a heavy couch. "This way she'll think even **you** wanted to be his date," he joked, realizing a second later that this was most likely inappropriate.

Cedric's face became very serious. "I'm still getting over the fact that he didn't even bother asking me... it hurts."

They both broke into laughter, causing raised eyebrows from the girls and a scowl from Roger. Harry noticed, relieved, that they were both over the hold-each-other-at-arm's-length initial reaction from the Tournament, and was glad for it. At the same time, a little voice in the back of his head still said: _"This is the guy who's with the girl that you wanted to be with…"_

He silenced it as best as he could. It didn't take much to do so, since at the same time the door swung open once more and the last couple entered the room. Krum wasn't wearing a frown mask as usual. Neither was his date. She looked familiar in a way…

Familiar… familiar?

"_Hermione?"_

AUTHOR NOTES: Okay, that wasn't exactly a surprise, but it was a good way to finish the chap, I think (I DID consider making it longer, until the part where… a-ha, gotcha!). I know this has little relevance to the story as it is, but seemed necessary, somehow.

Ah, just so we're clear, I like to picture the students with more "Muggle-like" clothes here… feel free to imagine what you want, that's why I keep clothing description in this particular part of the story to a minimal. You see what you want to see; personal insight is kind of cool, isn't it? ;)

Next up comes the actual Ball, that will be broken into parts as well for some reasons. Well, not _the Ball_ per se, but… expect slightly longer chapters... we'll see… anyway, tell me what you think so far. The more reviews, the faster I'll get an update here, hahaha (get me least over 90, will ya?) Take care all of you, and have a nice Sunday!

Hope to hear from you soon,

Intervigilium

P.S.: I just finished this and went to update. Fail login attempt… (sighs…) I'll try tomorrow…


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione looks back once while the Champions are waiting outside the door. Although no words are actually spoken, her eyes meet Harry's and they know it's come to that supernatural point of their friendship where words are no longer a true necessity.

"_I know I should have told you…"_

"_Yeah, you should..."_

"…"_  
_

He didn't even want to think of Ron's reaction… turning his eyes so that he seemed to focus somewhere slightly above Krum's head, he exhaled, a bit stiff.

"Is everything okay?" Padma asked him, his tension apparently flowing along his arm and hitting her sensitive fingers. Hermione returned to staring straight ahead, under the watchful eye of the Durmstrang student.

"Hm? No, nothing… just a bit nervous, I think."

Padma eyed the back of Hermione's head. "She looks beautiful, don't you think?"

"Beautiful?" cut in Fleur, behind them, loud enough so that all couples could listen. "Elle ressemble à l'aube du premier jour de l'été!" she went on, enthusiastic. To Harry, she could be informing them of a fire just as much as asking for a butter knife – by now, he actually liked that she seemed oblivious to this lack of translation; her urge to communicate in her native language, that Harry once considered somewhat snooty, was now viewed as a child's rush in passing her joy along. He was certain that not all people saw that, though… _baby steps, Harry_.

Hermione, apparently, understood her perfectly. The girl blushed furiously, not turning around. He'd have to ask her about it… later, he added as an afterthought, when the doors swung open and he felt that unwillingly familiar sensation of eyes flooding over him. A powerful tune came out of the room, as if there was any extra need of drawing attention to eight people entering a place filled with a static crowd.

"Ready?" he asked, looking sideways. Padma looked more confident than she felt, but kept her resolve, breathing deeply and eying him back.

"Ready," she said, buffing an invisible dust away from his shoulder. They smiled and followed the steps of the couple ahead.

There was a slight murmur that grew in size and depth dramatically fast. And Harry found out, with three quarters of relief and a quarter of concern, that he was far from being the main reason people turned their heads around as the Champions passed. Hermione's appearance with Krum, the bliss and nervousness of her smile and her overall _incredible_ appearance (even Harry, who considered her a sister, had to admit… she looked straight out of a movie) managed to steal all the remaining eyes who weren't already focused on Fleur and her god-like presence as they strode to the far end of the room. Boys in lust and girls in jealousy, she captured them all by surprise.

And Harry didn't miss Ron's jaw on the floor on his way in, oblivious to anything other than Mione and Krum. Nor Parvati's approving wink towards him and her sister, oblivious to Ron's… well, _to Ron being Ron_.

Harry offered Padma a chair, a behavior mimicked by the other Champions and Roger (who still stuffed his chest as if there was no man as powerful as he was at the moment). He noticed Percy at the nearest table, smiling at Harry.

"Didn't Percy graduate? What's he doing here?" Padma asked him, noticing Harry nodding back.

"Beats me," said Harry, shrugging. "He's Mr. Crouch's assistant, though…" he added, searching the other tables and registering the man's absence. "Maybe a replacement for the night?"

"Hmm. He'll miss one good dinner it seems," she retorted, smiling simply as she picked up the menu.

Harry could not help but smile back. The dinner itself flowed uneventful, and he took the time to observe the environment, breaking the silence with Padma on occasion to comment on a certain dish or another. She liked quietness at meals, and this suited him just fine too at the moment.

He watched the student-filled tables all around, trying to catch glimpses of conversation but failing miserably; they were placed too far apart from the rest. He noticed laughter and booming voices here and there and compared it to the table he now occupied: the Champions hardly spoke to each other, far too absorbed in keeping company to their respective dates. Cho and Cedric seemed happy enough with each other (_"Great…"_)… Hermione, apparently, was trying to explain some very basic English words to Krum (and somehow Harry _knew_ he was catching on far more quickly than he portrayed), but every few minutes she turned around to find the Gryffindor and give him uncertain smiles that he returned in a more reassuring way, their mental talks undeterred:

_"I didn't know what to tell you."_

_ "I'm pretty sure 'Krum invited me to the Ball' would've sufficed."_

_ "You would have laughed."_

_ "I would not! Much…"_

Scanning his left, Harry was surprised (and not in a good way) to see that Fleur didn't seem to be enjoying herself at all; Roger didn't seem to bring anything to the conversation that sparked her interest, only nodding and shaking his head according to the opinion that Fleur seemed to have on any given subject. His insights were starting to revolve around his physical prowess by the time she turned her head and met Harry's eyes, Roger still talking as he attacked what looked like a heavy steak.

"So much for giving people a chance, huh?" she whispered so that only he could listen. Harry could all but shrug.

"Some people may need a few more?" he offered, narrowing his eyes in plead. The boy couldn't really tell why it mattered so much to him that she had fun; guilt on his prejudgment of her, perhaps?

She laughed, squeezing Harry's forearm in appreciation. Fleur returned her rehearsed gaze towards Davies, who didn't even seem to notice she'd been looking anywhere else.

The moment he actually had been truly dreading came much sooner than he wished for: Dumbledore, eyes sparkling as usual in festivities, requested that the tables were set aside (more like commanded them) so that the Champions could open the dance floor. The violin player from the band, emerging on a stage to the left, described an arc with her arm, waiting for the eight students to reach the center of the room.

Harry led Padma along, trying not to trip. The couples arranged themselves in what resembled a square; and the Ravenclaw, feeling one of Harry's hands on her waist and reaching for the other, was suddenly _very_ aware of the crowd following their every move as they started to circle around very slowly.

"So this is what is like being you on daily basis?" she muttered, a silent, frightened grin on her lips as she searched for her sister in the crowd and found only Pansy Parkinson. Her stomach sank a little bit.

"Not fun, huh…?" he laughed hoarsely.

"Not… one… bit."

"Hey… easy now," he offered pathetically. Harry couldn't afford her feeling nervous. Not when she was supposed to be the calm and collected of the pair. "You were the one who told me to loosen up. So we'll just do that."

"Easier said than done, I admit," she retorted, almost stepping on his foot as he swirled and led her along.

"Just look at me, okay?" he said somewhat exasperated. Padma's eyes widened and they lost pace for a second. He lowered his voice and resumed the steps. "We were doing fine at the practices, remember? You're an amazing teacher and you're the one supposed to be saving me here, remember?" he laughed. Finally, so did she. "So… just look at me for a while. Forget them."

She did. And although they were far from Ginger and Astaire, they were also safe from being in the "four left feet" category. As soon as Padma recovered her confidence and smiled in a relaxed fashion, even managing to look around (and finally finding a proud Parvati next to a still dumbfounded Ron), Harry noticed that they were quite leveled with the other couples. Surprisingly enough, Cedric and Cho didn't seem to find a perfect rhythm; Hermione and Krum, albeit a bit awkward-looking at first, seemed content enough in their (he assumed) first dance. And Fleur and Roger completely dominated the attention as it was. He could have his flaws, but was leading the French student with confidence and flawless tempo.

It didn't take long before other couples decided to join in. At the end of the first song, followed by a round of applause, there were so many people left and right that by the time Harry let go of Padma's waist no one seemed to notice they were there anymore. He bowed slightly, the Ravenclaw laughing.

"Who knew you could actually _lead_, Harry?" she teased.

"Is that… _attitude_?" he argued back, amazed. Padma limited her actions to laugh once more and give him a hug, muttering her thanks. She seemed truly happy and that, Harry discovered, was quite enough for him, regardless of what anyone else thought about _him_.

"I'm the one who's supposed to be thanking you. Care for another?" he asked her – more out of politeness than proper will, but asked anyway – as the band didn't pause much.

"Oh, no," she smiled, "I think I need some time away from this," said Padma as people started moving faster around them. "I'm going to the bathroom, but I'll be brief… want to stay with Ron and Parvati for a while? I saw them over there," she indicated a corner.

"Will wait there with punch," he said simply, watching Padma turn around.

"Make that a butterbeer," she said loudly over her shoulder, a true smile on her face. Padma seemed lighter, and Harry felt happy to be a part of it. He grabbed four bottles from a nearby table and moved to the last location Padma had of their friends. On his way he noticed that the other Champions were still mixed to the dancing crowd.

"Giving up so soon, Potter?" a voice came with fun, artificial sweetness, close to him. A second later people shifted and he was able to spot Parvati just five feet away.

"Figured you guys might need a drink, _Patil_," he quipped, handing two of the bottles laced in his fingers by the necks. Ron was sitting by her side, although his eyes were far away from his surroundings. The girl sighed to the sight of him.

"Pitiful, isn't it?" she started, thrusting a bottle near Ron's stomach to wake him from lethargy. Didn't seem to work much as his eyes still followed Hermione's every move. He had barely acknowledged his best friend's arrival, just mumbling incoherent words now and then.

"Wake up call, you think?" Harry offered.

"I went with _rude awakening_ myself."

"You don't seem bothered," the Champion pondered in a lower voice. Parvati threw him a glance of utmost confidence.

"I'm not. It was about time, I'd say… I mean, _everyone _knows."

"So why did you…?"

"I'm just making sure he doesn't get himself hurt," she shrugged. "I won't say I wasn't surprised when Hermione walked through the door, but I knew she'd be here, I knew she'd be gorgeous, and I knew she'd be _with someone else_." Parvati paused, sipping her drink for a moment or two. "What are friends for?" she winked at Harry.

"_You never cease to amaze me, Miss Patil,"_ Harry thought, smiling and clinking his drink to hers.

"_But_," she added, resting her butterbeer on the table, "now that **you** are here, I'm going to have a little chat with that _marvelous_ French boy who seems to be missing my company to dance."

Harry could only laugh. She was, indeed, a piece of work.

"My sister?"

"On the bathroom, should be coming around soon."

"Make sure to tell her she was like **an endless dream** out there with you, or get her back to the dance floor so I can tell her myself," she grinned, proud. "And _do_ get your friend out of this coma, will you? He already has a fight picked out for him as it is."

"So it seems," he said, taking Parvati's seat as she slid around the crowd weightless towards a surprised Beauxbatons student.

"So… enjoying the party?" Harry asked his friend.

"She… she is…"

"Yeah… about that," the boy began, choosing his words as best as he could before a girl he didn't know came rushing towards them.

"Ha… Mr. Potter?"

Being treated in such a formal way struck him… "Just Harry will do… have we met?"

"Not really, but I think you should come with me," she said urgently. Her tone seemed to attract Ron's eyes away from Hermione and Viktor at last.

"Why? Is there something wrong with you?"

"No, but there's something wrong with Miss Patil…" her voice broke, uncertain.

"Padma?" he shot up from the chair. "What… where is she?"

"Just come with me, please," said the girl hastily, already moving towards the doors.

"_This can't be good…"_

AUTHOR NOTES: I'm uploading this from a hotel room… wish this was actually vacations, though, lol… special thanks to **werewolf007** for the consulting in French, you're bound to have some extra work in some chapters …

Next up we discover what happened… what's a Ball without complications? Read and review if possible. Hope to hear from you soon,

Intervigilium


	11. Chapter 11

"Are you…?" he turned towards Ron.

"Go, I'll be fine," was his friend's dry answer. Harry frowned, disappointment all over his face.

"I was actually going to ask if you were **coming**, but fine, stay! Just don't do anything stupid," he added, irritated, not bothering to wait for the effect of his words as he followed the girl's trail. He locked eyes with Fleur, puzzlement and concern all over her questioning gaze as he passed close to her and Roger. Afraid he'd lose sight of the girl as she fled the ballroom, he didn't stop for explanations, rushing out the door.

"This way," said the frantic-looking student, turning around a corner, Harry already by her side. The boy tried to remember where he had seen her before, but couldn't think of anything other than what could possibly have happened to Padma.

His answer didn't take long… at least, part of it.

The blond girl pointed ahead, her hand steady even though she seemed frightened. He could see both bathroom doors, the girls' wide open, no lights inside. A bad feeling creeping over him, he entered the room without pause.

"Padma?"

There was no one in sight. Luminosity filtered through the windows, but very poorly.

"Padma? Are you there?" he tried again, knocking his hand lightly at the only closed stall around. No answer. Pushing it gently, he noticed no one was inside.

Soft footsteps echoed. He turned to find the petite girl before him, looking around.

"Where is she?" he demanded, a bit louder than he meant.

"I, I don't know," she trailed off, looking past Harry. Then words burst from her lips like a hurricane. "When I walked into the bathroom she was sitting on the floor, and she was crying her eyes out, and… and I asked what was wrong – I know it was obvious, but I couldn't see very well at first – and I told her to just stay here and I would call someone, a professor or something, and she told me not to, not to tell anyone, but I was so terrified I went back to the Hall and then I saw you and, well, you were with her at the Ball so I figured I…"

"Hold." Harry's hand shot in the air. He was grateful she had thought of looking for help, but in her zeal she had left Padma alone. An honest – but, he hoped, not costly – mistake. "Back up a bit. What was _obviously_ wrong here?" He felt stupid asking it, considering Padma had been found crying and on the floor and that was wrong _enough_, but something about the way she said it felt off. The girl looked at him with questioning in her eyes.

"Oh, right, lights are out," she jumped, pulling her wand from a small purse and bringing light to its tip. "_That_."

Harry's eyes widened. This _definitely_ wasn't good…

There was a puddle on the floor, close to a stall Harry had neglected to examine further on his way in. He knelled next to it; it was a bright shade of red, but upon further inspection he noticed, relieved, it could not be blood. Not the same consistency or smell (he had grown quite accustomed to both), far from it. But the liquid stuck to the tip of his finger and didn't seem to spread around as he rubbed it with his thumb. It was incredibly cold to the touch, and if you looked at it through different angles, its color changed, always to deep and depressing tones.

"What is this?"

"I have no idea, but she had this _all over _her. M, maybe it was on the floor, Padma slipped and fell over it?"

Harry eyed the stall door, the wall, the floor… not what the spray pattern accused. _"More like it 'hit' her… or was flung at her…"_

"I don't think so," he said fiercely. Harry moved his own foot in and out of the puddle. The sole was stained, but left no mark on the floor, like a freakish glue. He watched the rest of the place. No footprints out of the bathroom. _Great…_

Harry stood up, taking deep breaths to focus. Thinking things through wasn't exactly his forte, but it was about damn time he started changing that… what did he **know** right now?

"Your name… you didn't say," he turned around.

"Oh, it's S, Sophia." She added a nervous smile to it.

"Sophia, I'm still gonna need some help from you," said Harry slowly, moving towards the door.

"Anything!" she pressed on, dutifully. _"Padma must have been horrified if this complete stranger is just so eager to help her…"_

"Stay here by the door," he began, peeking outside. A couple of girls were headed their way. They looked seventh-years. "See those girls? Ask one of them to go and summon a professor, preferably McGonagall, but _discretely_. The other stays with you here so you won't be alone, just in case. With me so far?"

"Sure, but... just in case _of what_?"

"Padma would not _cry_ over an accident," he said quickly. "She would perhaps curse and try and find a way out of it, but she would _not_ cry. Whatever… or _whoever_ was responsible for this, may try to come back if something was left behind. When a professor gets here, tell your story straight and help in any way you can."

"And what are you going to do?" she yelled as he was already speeding down the corridor.

"Find Padma," he yelled back. _"Let's just hope you're going where I think you're going…"_

He glanced at every new corridor, every crossroad, every flight of stairs on the way. It was small consolation that everyone else seemed to be at the Ball, so he could pretty much dash through the school on foot, patrolling corridors in search of a single person without risking capture of a Prefect. It was still a bet, and he was aiming for a general area… if he was wrong he'd have to start looking at random places… and at Hogwarts, this could take days… _if he was lucky_.

Soon he was rewarded with a distant sound of heels, probably a corridor or two away. He slowed his pace to muffle his own steps but kept his general direction. Crossing a tapestry that revealed a known shortcut, he was now ahead of a girl making her way to him.

"Padma?" he called gently, catching his breath. She lifted her eyes scared, closer to a window, the moonlight shining over her dress…

_"What…"_

Her dress, both arms and legs and parts of her face were stained crimson. She shivered and there were creases along her cheeks where the tears rolled down. She didn't even had the strength to pull away from him as she wanted to, when Harry started walking towards her, tentatively.

"Harry, don't…"

And then she collapsed into his chest, sobbing. Harry couldn't remember the last time he felt so powerless… wrapping his arms around her he started to make small circles on her back… she was freezing.

"Who did this to you?" he asked a minute or so, later, as her tears grew weaker. "What happened?"

"I… I don't know…" her tone was erratic, but she was less shivery.

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"Not really… not right now… I'm just…"

"'s okay… but we have to get you some help, this… I don't know what _this_ is, it could be dangerous to you… you should have been heading for the Hospital Wing, not coming back to your House."

She distanced herself so she could face him. Harry liked her eyes. They never lied.

"How did you know I was coming back here?"

"Hunch." And as if that didn't seem satisfying, he went on. "Figured that, whatever happened, you'd try to solve it alone first… or maybe you were just too upset to go to anyone else and wanted to be on your own for the rest of the night - even knowing it would worry me to no end (she shook her head to his 'severity'). Given we don't have curfew tonight and everyone else is out there dancing… what better place than your House?"

"Good guess for a Gryffindor," she muttered, wiping a tear from her face.

"Good run for a Ravenclaw. On heels," he admitted.

Her laughter was broken, but it was still there. "Come," he said, passing his jacket over her shoulders and trying to sound as confident as he could, "let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

AUTHOR NOTES: small afterthought just so that **Taly-chan **doesn't accuse me of torture, hehehe. Yes, you all read right… no curfew tonight. So it's way too soon to call the Ball over. I know it's a part of the story a lot of people around the site try to clear without pausing to change it much, and I'm trying to add a really different twist to it. Much will be clarified tonight, but many unanswered questions may spring into existence as well. More explanations on that further down the line. Think I'm gonna go shoot some hoops…

Read and review if possible! I allowed anonymous reviews as an experiment, so let's see how that goes… next chapter should come during this week, okay? Thanks for all the support. Hope to hear from you soon,

Intervigilium


	12. Chapter 12

"It was _Taste of Paradox_."

"Are you sure, Severus?"

The Potions Master eyed Minerva McGonagall with false interest. She settled for accepting that he was, after all, the authority in the matter of incapacitating liquids. The spit usually flung as he spoke being the most lethal of them.

"Yes, I am _sure_, Minerva. A poorly prepared mix, but the components can be broken with a sniff and the signs are quite obvious."

"Will she get better?" a voice asked, and then, as if sensing something was missing, added "Professor?" in a tone far from respectful.

Heads turned toward the wall. Harry stood there, leaning against it, arms crossed and eyes fiercely focused on the girl now sound asleep. Madam Pomfrey had helped Padma change into more comfortable clothes, administered a Sleeping Potion to soothe her and was now slowly applying something pathetically reminiscent of water over her potion-soaked body. Whatever it was, it was working, though: the deep red was disappearing from her skin, although far too slowly for the Gryffindor's rush. He remembered his index finger was still in need of 'repair' too… didn't seem to matter.

"Yes, Potter, she will be fine. The mixture itself was so far from ideal I wouldn't think twice before placing a bet that _you_ made it yourself…"

To this, both Dumbledore and McGonagall glared slightly his way. Snape sighed.

"… alas, it doesn't seem to fit your… _profile._ Anyway," he added, forgetting Harry and turning towards the Headmaster, "as I said, it is a disaster," he went on, twirling a vial with the remaining fluid acquired from the bathroom floor, "the _Paradox_ is not supposed to stick to surfaces as it did. If properly matured, the mix would have been absorbed by Miss Patil's skin where the dress wasn't protecting her, and the effect would have been deepened."

"Potter touched it as well," Gryffindor's Head of House pointed out.

"Yes, I don't expect a bright future in forensics for him…"

"What I _meant_ was why there seem to be no signs of the _Taste_ affecting him."

"Again, bad preparation." The man seemed bored out of his mind to explain this. "Potter's body probably did not even register such a small exposure, _to his luck_. Miss Patil's misfortune was to have this splattered all over her. Too much area of contact. I suspect some of it must have hit her lips too, so we should consider ingestion."

"Any treatment you suggest other than rest?" Dumbledore asked him.

"No need for anything else. Madam Pomfrey gave her a generous amount of Sleeping Potion. I trust her to be fully recovered by the time she wakes up."

_"And the people responsible for it duly punished by then,"_ the boy thought, eyes out of focus, only half listening to the conversation around him. Anger was building up inside him in ways he didn't fully understand. This was supposed to be _a good night _for her…

"Padma!"

The Hospital's doors swung open and Parvati sped forward, Sophia standing by the door frame – Harry nodded her way, expressing his thanks on summoning Padma's twin without need of asking. The girl smiled a thin smile before closing the doors and disappearing.

"What happened to…?"

"She's perfectly fine, I assure you," McGonagall attempted. Parvati didn't even seem to notice her as she strode, eyes fiery as those of a Hell hound.

Harry moved ahead, reaching for Parvati's arm and holding it steadily, not strong enough to hurt but with enough pressure to make her look directly at him. He tried to sound reassuring…

"She'll be okay, Parvati. There was an… accident earlier, but she's being cared for now. Professor… Snape says she'll be fine as soon as she wakes up."

"What _accident_?" she hissed, Snape's diagnostic apparently not enough to dissuade or calm her down.

"No one knows for sure," said Harry, but looking at her in a way that clearly indicated he had a theory, "she was found in a bathroom covered in this weird potion."

"She remembers **how** she was covered in it?"

"She didn't say a word about it. Not much about anything in fact, she just cried a lot. Part of what she was experiencing, actually…"

"What do you…?"

"The potion she was affected with," said Harry sadly. "It causes these profound mood twists."

Snape scoffed. "It is so like _you_ to simplify things like that, Potter. Then again, not much can be expected from a student who sees a strange liquid and doesn't think to call the Potions specialist in the vicinity before anyone else."

"I'm just trying not to alarm her, Professor. And I _did_ consider instructing Sophia to summon you, but when would you **ever** take seriously a calling requested by _me_?" Harry retorted, earning a glare from Snape. The sullen Head of House had to admit the boy had a point.

"Tread carefully, Potter…"

"Enough, you two!" said Parvati angrily. "What was wrong with her, anyway?"

"It is more than _mood twists_. The Taste of Paradox reverses a person's current emotional and mental states in a violent and extreme fashion, so that the person can no longer concentrate on anything other than that. Your sister was fortunate enough to be the target of a poor Potions maker…"

_"With such a sunshine of a teacher... go figure…"_

"… because the potion was too raw. Given that she seemed to be in such a good mood, Miss Patil only experienced a sudden sadness, some form of misguided grief. Hence, her depression and… mood twist," he finished, smiling at Harry in an infuriatingly condescending way.

"What would happen if the potion was stronger?" Parvati asked, only to regret it.

"Her mind would have been invaded with the places her worst nightmares wouldn't go to; much in the same manner a sad person would feel the heat of a scorching bliss in her every action." Snape said this as a man reading a boring monologue, although that glint of fascination he felt about the controlling side of Potions was always there. "Most people under this condition, be they happy or sad when they are exposed to 'the Paradox', are so deeply affected that their minds stop distinguishing reality from illusion. Permanent insanity is not uncommon..."

"Severus," Dumbledore warned him, "there's no need to scare the girl. Your sister will recover fully," he added, turning around, the Headmaster's reassuring smile calming down the Gryffindor, "but I risk betting that you won't be persuaded to leave her side until she wakes up."

"Damn straight I won't."

Harry's hand loosened the grip and she used her free arm to rub off a stubborn tear away. The Headmaster smiled kindly, conjuring an extremely comfortable couch close to Padma's bed.

"I won't need it, Professor Dumbledore," she said simply, and surprising them all – Harry not as much – she took off her shoes, pulled the sheets on the bed and arranged herself so that Padma's pillow was over her lap, her hand stroking her sister's hair gently, her expression stern and protective. Madam Pomfrey didn't even bother protesting, only summoning a pillow behind Parvati's head and retreating to her office.

"Since I'm no longer required here," Snape started dully, moving towards the door, "I'll return to the… _festivities_… Karkaroff seemed to want a word with me."

"Thank you for your help, Severus."

"It is my job," he answered curtly to the Headmaster, already by the door.

"I'll be on my way too, Dumbledore," said McGonagall. "Soon we'll have to set up the extra patrols… that is if you're still serious about this _no curfew_ idea…"

"I am," the Headmaster shrugged, that hint of sparkle in his eyes. "It's not something we can offer everyday."

"I understand." Nothing in her tone indicated she agreed, but she did seem, at least, willing to cooperate with a night of extra work so that students could have some 'freedom'…

"You should probably head back too, Harry…" Dumbledore advised him. The boy didn't look back at the Headmaster, eyes only to the Patil sisters. He didn't need words when Parvati eyed him back…

"_I'll stay for as long as you want me to."_

"That's okay, Harry, I really want to be alone with her."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Dumbledore retreated after those words, promising Parvati he'd return during the night to check up on them. Harry was following on his heels, a quiet expression on his face, when:

"Harry?"

It was Parvati calling. He exchanged a quick look with the Headmaster before making his way back to the girls' bed, the sound of shutting doors behind him indicating they were alone.

"Parvati?"

"I know that look."

"Then you know you won't be able to stop me either," he resumed, serious. His fists were still clenched. She simply nodded.

"So you know who it was?"

"I have a pretty strong guess."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning there's only a handful of people inside these walls able to screw up a Potion like that. Add motive – misguided as it may be – , opportunity, a genuine disregard to Padma's well being… the list grows short."

Parvati nodded yet again, comprehension dawning. Another tear rolled down like fire down her cheek.

"Snape will probably come to the same conclusion; if he hasn't already," he added after a short silence.

"What makes you think so?"

"Normally he'd jump at the opportunity of punishing a student for making a potion like this one without authorization. He made no mention of it to Dumbledore, nor was he asked about it. Meaning he knows the signature flaws of whoever made it. Doesn't seem _to me_ that he'll take the necessary… _precautions_ so it doesn't happen again."

"Will **you**?"

It only took a silent look to Padma's sleeping face. He squeezed her sister's hand briefly.

"Count on it."

"_Good._" She squeezed his hand back before letting go."Get the bitch."

AUTHOR NOTES: corrected a small mistake pointed out by a reviewer, otherwise exactly the same chapter. Sorry for the delay on this. Harry's confrontation with Padma's attacker(s?) next up. Reviews are, as always, welcome and make me better. I'm not so sure I made the potion credible (as far as "potions" are credible, anyway…), and the dialogues seemed a bit stiff… I don't know, this was just one of those parts I felt insecure about writing. Tell me what you think, okay? :)

Hope to hear from you soon,

Intervigilium


	13. Chapter 13

"Harry? A word?"

The words reached him as soon as the Hospital Wing's doors were shut. He did not need to turn around to know he should expect a long white beard and eyes behind spectacles boring a hole through his skull and into his mind (as they always did).

"Professor." There was no evident emotion in his voice.

"I understand that this has been an emotional night to all of you," the Headmaster began. Apparently, he wasn't up for smoothing the dialogue tonight. _That's a first…_

"Emotional is a way to describe," Harry cut in, still impassive.

"Still… I feel I must ask you not to… _intervene_. All necessary measures will be taken to catch and discipline whoever's responsible for Miss Padma's misfortune; I can assure you of that."

Harry assessed Dumbledore's eyes for the first time. His message was clear: _I know this hurts, but don't you get yourself into unnecessary trouble. Unnecessary risks. This is a big boy's trouble._

"Do you understand that?" the elder asked him, and for some reason the question irritated him even more.

He had enough of all that…

"I'm sure you'll do all you _can_, Professor," he began, hands in his pockets as he nodded curtly and made his way through the barely lit corridor. He could still feel Dumbledore's eyes guarding his every move before he disappeared through the next corner.

_ No one said anything about 'provoking' a crisis of conscience, though…_

It didn't take long for him to return to the Ball. Although his current mindset didn't allow him to register anything too far from his immediate surroundings, he noticed a slight decrease of population. Sure enough, given that Dumbledore had suspended curfew, some people would take the opportunity to enjoy Hogwarts by night, something most students without an Invisibility Cloak never experienced. Most of the teachers were now bound to be spread around the school grounds to make sure students weren't abusing the privilege.

Harry's eyes moved like those of a falcon, ignoring completely what attention he might be drawing, paused by the front doors. He scanned, discarded, scanned, discarded… his plan was somewhat set and he didn't feel like wasting time. Luck or not, the two men he'd been trying to find found him instead.

"Harry! Excellent performance opening the dance floor, my good friend," said George. There wasn't a hint of alcohol in his breath, but he definitely looked 'looser'… as if a Weasley twin could be any more.

"Yes, indeed," added Fred, "a cross between Astaire and Godzilla dancing tango out there. Quite hard to achieve even for…"

He stopped mid-sentence; both twins noticed Harry's frown at once and assumed a more Gryffindor-like stance. "What?"

"If you're asking, that means news of what happened to Padma haven't reached all corridors yet," said Harry simply.

"What news?"

"I'll explain later… right now, the short version includes a certain group of Slytherins that I want to talk to."

"Am I right to presume the topic of conversation may be about some sort of _retribution_? If so, you're definitely coming to the right people."

"What makes you think this is about retribution?" Harry asked him, his mood somewhat lifting… it was a natural part of talking to the Weasleys. Fred shrugged.

"Not that many reasons why you'd want to talk to a Slytherin… I went for the most popular."

For the first time for what felt like hours, Harry smiled a relaxed smile. George patted him on the shoulder, as Fred quickly excused himself to explain (what he assumed would be) their brief absence to their dates.

"Chill, Harry… we got your back."

"That's _just_, and _exactly_, what I need." He nodded towards the doors as Fred joined them again. "Today's practical word is _deterrence_."

"And for those of us who don't attend the library with the (he made Hermione's voice) _adequate frequency_ (and back to his Weasley self)… what does that mean?" George asked him, an amused smile between brothers as they watched Harry's conviction.

"You'll see. Look…" and he began explaining his half-formed idea while they prowled the corridors, sights set on a certain posse…

Pansy Parkinson laughed with her friends, the bathroom walls echoing the high-pitched giggles here and there. No trace of regret on her expression… the way she saw things, this was just a matter of reestablishing 'patterns'. Padma could not simply waltz into a ballroom looking – _almost _ – good, sided by a school Champion… ever since the rumors of Harry's invitation reached her ears, she prepared for that moment. She took her time and did what should be done. She was _Pansy Parkinson_, and it would be wise for every other girl in the school to know so.

She thought of repercussion, but what of it? The Potions Master was her Head of House, known far and wide for favoring his students (to the extent of even those not particularly fond of his 'art', such as herself…). Even _if_ the potion was traced back to her, she'd get a slap on the wrist or something and no one would make a fuss. She smiled to herself, leading the way out. _Now, back to having fun with my ridiculously rich and handsome date…_

Except that it wasn't Draco outside the door. And no Crabbe or Goyle shielding him anywhere. There was just Harry Potter. Leaning against the wall. Hands in pockets.

Eyes that made her take a small step back before looking both sides of the hallway to find Draco. _Nothing._

"Is there a problem, Parkinson?"

He didn't sound _at all_ like himself. No valiant, stupid Gryffindor there. There was something barely contained beneath him and Pansy was not eager to find out what it was… _He knows… he knows…_

"You better get moving before Draco returns, Potter. He won't mind tossing you out of here just because you're a Champion," she defied, gathering some strength.

_"He won't come,"_ a voice came from the corridor… out of thin air. Two girls jumped behind Pansy.

"What…?"

"_He's_ right, Draco's not coming," said Harry, apparently expecting the voice, lowering his head. "He'll wake up somewhere, sometime, and crawl his way back to the dungeons with his little pets. And you, Parkinson, are not going to tell him I was here."

_"Or me… or him…" _another voice came from the opposite side. Another jump, followed by Pansy this time… she swallowed hard. _Get your shit together, girl…_

"Doing funny acts with ghosts and Peeves… inventive for an airhead like you, Pot…"

"I'm not done," his voice boomed, eyes raised to meet hers. _Good Merlin_, she couldn't help but think… _what's with him?_ "You are going to walk out of here and aim straight to Dumbledore's office. You are going to admit you cooked up that excuse of a potion and meant to hurt Padma with it. There's a limit to everything and you reached yours tonight, Parkinson. What you did was borderline psycotic."

There was a tense silence. _He didn't even bother asking… not much a point denying… _Pansy felt like laughing but nothing about the situation seemed to call for it. The corridor itself seemed to darken around them and she had to admit that the feeling up and down her spine was _fear_.

"Who do you think you are, Potter?" she defied. It was a bluff, and a _bad_ one; she knew it. Even the girls around her clicked their high heels slowly away, just in case Harry drew his wand and decided to make a target out of her. Judging by his face… it was definitely an option.

"I'm just _me_. I'm not better or worse than anyone. That's kind of the point, if you're slow on catching up, Parkinson (using just her last name seemed to irritate her)… I don't know the reasons behind this idiotic crusade you got going with whoever displeases you, but let's get one thing crystal-clear here… it ends. _Tonight_." He was walking away, towards the distant music. "Start minding your own damned business and leave Padma – and everyone else, for that matter – well enough alone."

"What if I don't?" her voice came out, still trying to establish herself as leader to a group that no longer seemed to care about structure. Harry stopped.

"And I was thinking you'd be smart enough not to ask," he shot back, not turning around. Almost at the same time, a high-pitched scream nearly deafened the girls. Screaming in fear themselves, all froze in place, all thinking the same...

_This was not a ghost's sound… this was all Harry's doing…_

"Let me put it this way, Parkinson," and he met her with a cold glare before resuming his walk in silence, the screams dying out behind him, "if you're not sorry for your actions _tonight_… you WILL be sorry for them till the day you leave Hogwarts."

AUTHOR NOTES: I'm terribly sorry for the delay on this. It was not intended, and this chapter, as it is, was meant to be longer, but I felt you guys deserved some sort of explanation and at least a quick update…

I recently lost a very dear friend of mine (whoever read the beginning of my other recent 'story' knows what this is about…). She never made it out of her coma… and with her went a little chunk of me. She was always one of my biggest supporters on writing, a whirlwind of spirit and decency and kindness and whatever else of good in a person you can come up with… and I haven't dealt with it. Not until now, I think... I buried into whatever work I could to avoid looking at these stories because something felt off here… even now as I read this scene I know I could've done it so much better…

I don't know… today was the first day I could actually sit down and revisit these lines, these characters, and try to make 'em alive. I promise whatever questions this chapter left will be answered in the next one. There's a very good chance that Harry looked off to you, but that's intended… partially for the sake of the story and partially because quite frankly I'm still mad at the world… so, sorry about that…

Take care all of you, and have a good week out there. Hope to hear from you soon.

Intervigilium


	14. Chapter 14

Harry stopped near the Entrance Hall, still hidden from the main crowd. Suddenly breathing seemed a very difficult activity, something he had to focus on to get done. The last few hours had been so utterly surreal… like a rollercoaster ride reaching its peak before plunging into the depths of the earth. _It's a freaking festivity, and I can't even manage that without incident..._

The walls and objects around him shifted briefly, as if the paintings and statues along the way seemed to gain larger dimensions and return to their normal shape a second later. He smiled to these 'moving shadows'.

"You guys sure have a knack for theatricality."

The 'moving shadows' agitated more now, as if touched by electric current; the shapes of two boys emerged from the very environment, their wands pointing at their own foreheads. They grinned too.

"Disillusionment Charm. True, we still need to perfect it…" George began.

"… but it served its purpose tonight," Fred finished. He took two small shell-like capsules out of his pocket. "These noise-makers worked like a charm too. Stealthy detonation, decent sound dispersion – considering we aimed for "small chick mayhem" – any side effects to you, Harry?"

"Not at all."

"Same. So making sure that someone touches the device with their wand _before_ use ensures safety for that person inside the area of effect. Brilliant touch, brother," said Fred with an exaggerated bow.

Harry laughed. "Yes, when it comes to mischief you'll always be one step ahead of vanguard itself," he said, taking one of the shells into his hand and examining it before returning it slowly. "Draco and the others?" he asked; the fact that the Slytherins hadn't been able to defend themselves or their 'dames' was sure to be an important leverage.

"Stunned before they spotted us. Abandoned at an empty classroom. Should be waking up eventually."

"Why do I get the feeling that's not all?" Harry asked, eying the twins suspiciously. Both shifted their weights, looking up, acting as innocently as they could.

"Ok… _Maybe _we rigged some pies to fall on their faces by the time they wake up. But technically that's a delay tactic, and perfectly within reason!" George argued.

"And let's be honest, we're not above a good ol' classic," Fred reasoned.

Harry couldn't help but smile. "No, I suppose you're not. That's okay, though… I can think of worse fates for them other than facial _cream_. I just hope the scare tactics weren't lost on Pansy," he breathed, looking to the ceiling.

"Believe me, it worked."

"What makes you say that, George?"

"Because you scared the hell out of us too."

Harry eyed them back. Twice tonight they didn't look loaded with that aura of playfulness so common to both. This was the second.

"Don't get us wrong. We know you're all about taking the high road as much as possible before actually fighting back, and we respect that. We even understand how you _needed _to try and end this with Pansy in your own terms…" said Fred.

"… but back there, when you were talking to her… we never saw _that_ Harry," George followed. "Conviction, but no **heart**, y' know? It was…"

"…_cold_," they finished. Harry eyed them back, his mouth slightly open but no true words coming out… he knew they were right. He had felt it even more than they had witnessed it… lowering his head he slowly pressed his fingers inside the pocket, recalling Padma, so vulnerable in that hospital bed. _Could it be that the potion had affected him so much with so little…?_

He lifted his eyes, faking certainty in his voice. "Yeah, I… I think I just needed to really make a point. Just being 'me' would not do with her. I appreciate the concern guys, but I'm fine… just Harry, as always."

"We sure hope so, mate." George patted him on the arm. "We know you got that whole silent type thing going on, but there's a reason you ended up in Gryffindor. Never lose that… agreed?"

"Agreed," he laughed. _Silent type… lunatics_. "And thanks… for tonight."

"Harassing Slytherins and testing out applicable tactics for escapes? This was a blast; we should be thanking _you_!" said Fred, before placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "But do yourself a favor and enjoy the rest of the night, will you? Chances are you'll still die at the Triwizard, so live it up now, okay?"

"Fred!" George exclaimed, already several steps ahead, looking for their dates. "Manners, will ya? You don't tip a man on wagers if he's a part of the bet!"

Fred just winked calmly and Harry nodded, seeing the twins walk on. He had trouble picturing Hogwarts without them; the rebellion, that absolute _carpe diem_ method of theirs. His father and friends would be damn proud of this generation's lead mischief-makers, he thought, not excluding himself from the equation but definitely bowing to the twins' superiority on the matter.

He headed inside the ballroom, aiming for the table with several beverages left untouched. His throat felt dry and he figured whatever side-effects this Taste of Paradox had on him, they were nothing a butterbeer couldn't start curing. Taking a long gulp, he wondered if Pansy would bother accepting his 'truce' offer. If he was honest with himself, right now he didn't feel prepared to start a war with her and make the girl's life miserable during their time left at Hogwarts. It wasn't in him… not **truly** in him. He just wanted justice, not more conflict; but somehow, whether by the effect of the potion or his own angered resolution, he realized this was the only way to try and reach the Slytherins. Fight fire with fear of more fire. _Si vis pacem, para bellum, right?_

Scratching the bottle with his thumb, he knew he had bluffed; all his prayers were that she didn't call him on it and actually developed a conscience; out of fright, if not out of decency.

"Hello, stranger," a sing-song greeting came. He turned around to find Roger and Fleur coming his way. It was hard to suppress a smile when she was around.

"Hey. You kids having fun?"

"Je m'amuse autant que je peux, ce qui n'est pas énorme en ce moment," the girl replied, her home language flowing calmly from her lips.

"Don't you just love her French?" said Roger mesmerized. Something about the way the words came out, though, warned Harry that whatever she said wasn't as complimentary as her escort hoped it was. The way she smiled at him while Roger wasn't looking told him he was right.

"So where's Padma?" he asked Harry.

"She wasn't feeling very well. Turned in for the night," he resumed. No point on making a circus out of her misery... especially not to someone so prone to gossip as Roger perturbingly seemed to be.

"Oh, so that's where you were going when I saw you leave?" Fleur asked him. "To find her?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Good man. Too bad you weren't here to see your friends making a show, though," said Roger, apparently ignoring a nudge on the ribs from the Beauxbatons student, who just sighed in defeat.

"A _what,_ now?"

"Well," Fleur began, carefully approaching a topic she certainly didn't mean to impose on Harry, "apparently that red-headed friend of yours and… Hermione, that's her name, right…? Well… I think they had a little row…"

"_Little row_? Come on, Fleur… everyone around stopped to watch. It was a bit more than that!" her escort added quickly, eager to help (Harry just hoped she never looked at him the way she was looking at Roger right now…).

The Gryffindor massaged his eyes under the glasses with one hand. _I just can't catch a break…_ "Did any of you happen to see where they went?" he asked; Harry could pretty much guess what the argument was about but it was something he'd have to deal with _after_ he found them both.

"Nah, mate, she stormed out; he didn't stay much longer, either," the Ravenclaw informed him. Harry just sighed. _This was supposed to be a FUN night…_

"Do you need any help finding them?" Fleur offered kindly. "I could try and soothe your friend's mood… the girl's, of course."

Harry just smiled both from her offer and Roger's astonished face; apparently his idea of spending time with Fleur didn't involve anyone else near. "No need, Fleur, but thanks; they're probably returning or at our House already… I'll start looking there, I think."

_That's just wishful thinking… with my luck Hermione will have barricaded herself in some girls' bathroom. I haven't been inside __**all**__ of them tonight, after all._

"You heard the man, Fleur; Harry can handle it," said Roger, not wasting a second more than he needed to. "Besides, there's this place I'd like you to see. Come," he offered his arm.

Fleur took one last worried look at Harry. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. I want you to have some fun too, you deserve it. Go," he said, nodding them out, a weak attempt of reassurance in his smile. She conceded, taking Davies' arm and sighing calmly. "Avec ma chance, tu vas finir par me ramener à notre carrosse," she said with a cheerful tone Harry now knew better than to be fooled by. Her escort, as always, seemed just bedazzled by it and made no comment.

As he watched them leave, a sudden sadness overcame Harry once more; how simpler that night would have been if he had been able to ask Fleur for company instead.

_Stop it. If not for you, Pansy's actions would have gone unpunished. Snape would dig it deep within the dungeons where the truth would never see light. This way, maybe she'll get some justice,_ he told himself. _Then again… if I hadn't provoked Pansy in the first place at that corridor… if I hadn't asked Padma to come with me… maybe her night would have been different…_

Deciding his wallow in self-pity could wait a little longer, Harry took another sip from his drink, pulled one deep breath and headed out the door, ignoring the majority of the now thinner crowd of students and teachers roaming around.

Figuring out Ron's location was easier than he expected: a quick chat with Dean Thomas just before he reached Gryffindor's most used access corridors and he found out his friend had already been seen entering their dormitory, mumbling words of anger no one dared to try and comprehend.

Ron could wait; if he was being honest with himself, Harry knew Ron's version of the facts would be extremely partial (not to say narrow-minded); and he was far more concerned with Hermione. Ron's inability to go after what he – apparently – wanted (something that Harry understood, thanks to Cho, in a very personal level…) was what was causing his misery and her own. This was **not** her fault and she did not deserve to suffer for it…

This didn't make matters easier, though; Mione's whereabouts were still a mystery (Hannah gently climbed up to the girls' dormitories to verify if she was there). Harry stood a few extra minutes outside, next to the Fat Lady's portrait, hoping against hope she'd appear, counting mentally the bathrooms he'd have to search if she didn't…

Only then it him…

… and he started to run.

Harry dashed through staircases, slipping around the small groups of people without a care in the world that populated Hogwarts like a city too spread apart. It was only as he found the doors he had been looking for slightly open that he smiled, a glint of hope forcing a spark on his mind.

Pacing very slowly now, the boy twisted his wrist slightly, caught his wand and murmured _Lumos_; the door creaked just enough to fit him in, the wand held like a flashlight. Dust particles hovered before him like snow. The Library seemed empty.

Slowly he covered the entrance, listening to everything other than his footsteps. It didn't take long… the short breaths and hiccups of someone crying upstairs. Sticking to the old, refined carpets as much as he could, he started making his way up.

"Mione? You there?" he tried, not wanting to scare her. Even though his voice was leveled, the walls made it boom with echo. No answer, but the sounds he chased seemed to die down a bit. He closed in…

"Is Ronald anywhere near you?" came that familiar voice, stern, not at all abated . Harry smiled from where he stood. _Always defiant_.

"Figured you thought of me as smarter than that," he retorted, his steps closer to her.

"Harry…" she warned. He could tell which aisle she occupied now.

"Don't worry… I knew bringing him with me would get me hexed all the way back to Privet Drive. It's just me, Herms."

Silence.

He drew another breath in, turning a corner and gradually diminishing the brightness of his spell so it wouldn't obfuscate her: there was enough light from some stained glass so that they weren't in complete darkness.

Hermione sat on the floor; back against a shelf, arms bracing her knees. Her shoes were lost on the floor and her hair was loose now, partially concealing her face. She did not look his way.

"May I sit?"

Silence again. Her short breaths increased. She was about to cry again… Harry was going to say something when he spotted a small, rusty candlestick on a table close by. Almost without thinking, he picked it up and muttered something under his breath, noticing Hermione's neck slowly turning his way, eyes still hidden but curious as always. He pretended not to notice as the candlestick almost liquefied in Harry's hand before shaping itself like a glass jar. _It's not perfect, but looks sturdy enough. It'll do_.

He slowly made his way to where Hermione stood, placed the jar a few inches away from her unflinching small feet, and muttered the incantation to the Bluebell Flames his friend was so famous for. As the dancing, cheerful fire licked safely the jar's insides, Hermione's toes displayed a fraction of movement. Harry stood up, took a step back and sat by her side, a leg splayed on the floor, arms resting over the other leg's knee.

They sat there listening to each other's heartbeats for a minute; Hermione's was slowly normalizing.

"Those were rather good spells," she mumbled weakly.

"Daresay I had a good teacher," he simply stated. He could feel her smile without looking sideways. "And **before** you lecture me on the dangers of conjuring flames near stacks of books; it's all good. Four years of watching you do this and you learn a thing or two about controlling it."

Her laughter was strained, but free of tears. She was _just_ going to warn him about it… "Four years… talk about slow learner," she sniffed.

Harry laughed, watching the flames dance. "Leave it to you to make a compliment sound like an insult." She laughed too, drying her cheeks with her arm. They both locked eyes briefly.

"I didn't say you could sit."

_She didn't._

"Yeah, but you knew I would."

_She did._

"How did you know where to find me?" she finally asked. Harry's head tilted to the side briefly, considering her question.

"At first I didn't… then, I just **did**, like it was obvious." He looked around, avoiding her stare. "The quietness, the feeling of home it brings you… it just clicked. I _do_ know you… you know?" and he looked back at her, firmly.

"You do," she resumed at a low voice. And then she flashed that Hermione smile of hers, that close-to-the-heart, you're-a-fool-who-makes-a-job-out-of-saving-people-but-I-adore-you-for-it-anyway smile (it was a _very_ complicated smile…). The one that always made him wish they had been born brother and sister. The one that assured him that blood bonds were no stronger or weaker than the link they had right there, anyway.

"I always wanted a brother like you, you know that?" she said, voicing his own thoughts. Hermione rested her head on Harry's shoulder and snuggled in as he put his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head, a stubborn, single, proud tear watering his eye but never streaking down his face.

"Right back at ya… _little_ _sis_," he croaked, rubbing her arm gently, words muffled in her hair.

Her next words were spoken without fear of misinterpretation; she knew he'd read into it just as much as he needed to. They sealed something that night that all these years that passed had formed, and all those years to come would never break…

"I love you, Harry."

…

"I love you too, Mione."

AUTHOR NOTES: Next up you'll see a bit more of Fleur, I promise. I wanted to go on a bit further, but couldn't. This was where I NEEDED to end this chapter… anyone who has a true friend will understand. Harry didn't need big speeches, didn't need to defend or attack no one. We never say all that really matters only with our mouths.

This last part was completely dedicated to Laura… make sure you give the angels a laugh whenever you can. I miss you... so very much. Always will.

Special thanks to **werewolf007** for the patient help with Fleur's adorable French. Hope to hear from all of you soon.


	15. Chapter 15

"_Wow_."

Not a reply you'd usually get from Hermione Granger, but hey… tonight everything felt so twisted Harry thought that very little would surprise him.

"And that's pretty much about it." He was just finishing putting her up to speed with the events he witnessed and participated in. They were nearing the Grand Staircases, Harry's jacket for the second time guarding someone else's shoulders that night.

He had almost expected her to scowl, give him that _look_ she always had when he messed things up. But she didn't tonight… perhaps Hermione, under the circumstances, understood that this was Harry's best solution to an already stressful night. In truth, she felt she would've handled matters _far _differently, but where was she to judge anyone? Whatever lectures she could prepare would wait… this was Harry. He had stopped everything and neglected everyone to find her. He deserved at least some level of peace.

"And Padma…?"

"She'll be fine, according to the staff. As soon as I get you back on the tower I'll head back to check up on her… you sure you don't want to come back in?"

They paused briefly, the distant sound of music denoting some people still at the dance floor. To anyone else, Hermione's eyes would be resolute. It took Harry years to finally crack a glimpse of indecision on the now red and puffy face of his friend.

"Absolutely not," she almost shot back. "Done enough damage tonight, it seems," and in her stare there was a warning for Harry not to press on. He instead focused onward, past her. A weak smile raised only the left side of his lips as he shoved his hands on his pockets.

"Think I'm not the only one who thinks otherwise," he stated simply, nodding towards Hermione's back. She turned in time to see Krum's worried expression take another level to the sight of her dried tear-stricken cheeks as he closed in on them.

"V, Viktor?"

_She sounds as if she had forgotten about him completely… _

"Hermione?" his accent came strong, "I was looking all over for you. Is something wrong?" and then his hawk eyes zeroed in on Harry. Didn't take long for the Gryffindor to add things up…

_He wasn't around when Ron and Hermione had their row… and now I'm with the girl and she looks like she's been crying… okay, Harry… time to fix things… what is one more anyway…_

"Actually we ran into each other just now," he began, eyes locking decidedly on Hermione's, but calm enough not to raise suspicion of a lie; _I should do this for a living_, "Hermione was feeling a bit tired and wanted to get some early rest. But your timing is impeccable, Krum (he felt himself falter while trying to sound this secure about himself while talking to a world-class Seeker); I was supposed to find you afterwards and explain all this, but if you want to – and Hermione is okay with it, of course – you can escort her yourself."

Krum's smile was vigorous, his worries appeased. Harry's was peaceful, reassuring, and tired; he didn't know how long he could keep up with this. Hermione's, though, was (and he would remember her constantly of it) one of the prettiest smiles she ever gave him.

"Are you sure, Harry?" she asked him. He laughed slightly, removing his jacket gently so that Krum's could materialize around the girl almost through magic.

"I'm sure. You guys were here together; you deserve to have all the time possible. Perhaps Krum can even convince you to some sight-seeing around Hogwarts, I'm told it is beautiful at night," he added with a smirk. Hermione looked at him as if saying: _You were just __**told**__, huh?_

"The sight-seeing can wait," the older student added, already wanting to lock Hermione's arm on his. "She wants to rest, that's what she will get. Thank you for bringing her… Harry."

His name sounded forced, but not in a bad way. He acknowledged it with a nod, smiled back at Hermione and moved to leave the couple alone. It was then that Hermione gave him a quick hug before letting him go.

"You are the best," she mumbled weakly.

"I try", he mumbled back laughing, placing a quick peck on her forehead, much like an older brother would. He felt an irrational desire to see Hermione happy tonight. "You take care of her now, Krum."

"I will." And Harry had no doubt he would. "And it is Viktor to you."

And just like that, the couple took a staircase nearby, disappearing in awkward smiles that would be traded for more relaxed ones, Harry was positive, as soon as they were left alone.

Much like he was.

He could hear the music and footsteps everywhere if he closed his eyes... students were sure making the most of this newfound and fleeting freedom. Surprisingly, it held no more appeal to Harry at the moment than a second fight with a dragon. Sure, he was positive that wherever the Weasley twins were, the night was a blast (definitely worth checking at the very least), but right now, all he wanted… all he really, really wanted… had to be found somewhere else.

He resumed his path, focused only on the sound of his own steps, checking with his eyes and ears for the most isolated areas. The farther he went along the cold corridors, the more he reminded himself of his encounter with Fleur not so long ago… solitude could be found everywhere, if you knew where to look for it.

Coming to one of the northern-most cloisters, Harry leaned against a pillar, taking a long look up. Shouldn't be long before it started, now... he knew the signs, knew the air of this land better than any air in the world. He entered the cloister, pulling his wand from the improvised holster and muttering a simple incantation to turn a mid-sized stone into a scruffy pillow. It was not the best he could do, but it would fit.

There was an empty fountain, surrounded by benches. He chose the longest of them, setting the pillow to one side and laying his body down, jacket over his chest, eyes piercing the night sky. There were holes through the clouds, and through them, the stars, ever vigilant and since the beginning of ages, in awe observed.

And then it started snowing, like he knew it would all along. Slow and careful, more like a thin blanket to the air than a proper blizzard. Harry loved that kind of snow; he didn't feel the cold, didn't raise a shield over himself (at least, not instantly) to avoid the crystals…he just stood there and let the ice fall, and the world be the world without him in it. For as long as it would last.

No tournament.

No rules.

No enemies.

No rapid, foreign-language cursing…

_No rapid, foreign-language cursing?_

Looking sideways, Harry followed the sound of resolute steps on the ground, collapsing somewhere near the pillar he stood next to a few minutes earlier. He didn't really need her to move any further to realize who was 'perturbing' the quietness he hid in… if not for the accent alone, the voice underneath the strained sobs was very familiar to him at this point…

Fleur took extra steps in, sitting on a different bench, head down. Apparently whatever stillness he could muster had granted Harry some form of camouflage, or the girl was just not paying that much attention to where she was going. There was a silent fury in her mumblings, the fingers whiter than usual clenching her dress at knee length. She was struggling not to cry…

He was at a loss for words. Harry didn't really mind the disturbance, didn't even register that once more he could not have some level of peace other than by choosing to hide in his own bed (and even there, Ron would be bitching about life just a few meters away…). Much like with Padma and Hermione, all that really mattered right now was to fix the part of the world that made this girl almost cry like she did…

_This is the LAST ball I'm ever attending… too… much… damn… work…_

Not sure how to approach her without being hexed, Harry noticed his wand was still in his hand, and that his jacket was over his body, and that Fleur wasn't as carefree as Harry about the temperature… he murmured the incantations, so that the jacket hovered, leaving snow particles on its wake. It fell over Fleur's shoulders with almost practiced ease. He was just as surprised as she was, clutching the fabric as her eyes, blue and alight, searched her surroundings with (embarrassed) surprise.

"H, Harry?"

He breathed, relieved that she didn't jump at the sight of him. "Hey," was his best-at-the-moment answer.

"What are you… doing here?"

"Long story… but I'm not on the verge of tears, so… daresay yours is the one we should talk about…" he said, sitting properly.

She made a sound halfway through a laugh and a snort, saying something like '_Ce chien!'._ Apparently the specifics were either too weird or hurtful to discuss with him. Harry let the silence sink in, gave her time… in a lot of aspects, he was finding out… Fleur was easy to understand. And at some point he realized that they wouldn't be talking about her night… at least not for the time being.

"What do you people do in France when there's snow?" he finally blurted, eyes yet again in the sky, more amazed with his own train of thought than with the reaction it struck on Fleur, eyebrows inquisitive.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well," he said finally, rising from the bench and waving the pillow into oblivion, "because the snow's picking up, there's a few hours before sunrise and the world comes back to 'normal', and… I think that if you can stomach our kidney pies and everything else during the course _of a year_… I think I can handle a moment or two doing something you French people do when the weather's like this."

He offered his hand, leaving it in air for as long as it took. Yes, it was a foolish way to get her out of her funk, and yes, it was completely unlike him to say such words. Or maybe, Harry realized… that's just who he was allowing himself to be. Harry was tired of his own life tonight. Whatever selfish escape he could get from this while making Fleur happy at the same time was the equivalent of a Christmas miracle. It was something to start with.

The girl's smile, although slow, lit up the cloister, lit up the night… lit up Harry's soul. She took his hand and rose from her seat.

"If you want a good French snow ritual, I can help… **if** you know where we can find some good coffee. And by that I mean _not that stuff you drink that passes for coffee around here_," she mocked, hand slipping as she wove her arms inside his jacket and laced one under Harry's elbow line, using the free hand to dismiss invisible tears.

"I may just know the person for the job," he assured her, their steps echoing as those of one person (he slowed his stride to match hers without thinking).

"You do realize you publicly admitted kidney pies are awful?" she said as he led her down a flight of stairs.

"I did no such thing. Just pointed out that some people are just too… _delicate _for it," he jested, with no hint of mirth in his voice. Fleur eyed him as if watching an actor. It amused her.

"Did I mention hanging British people upside down is quite entertaining in France during snowy days?" she added, nudging him slightly, single eyebrow raised.

"Oh, I think the coffee's a good enough lesson today… you can tell me about other fascinating French facts some other time… from a telephone, even."

AUTHOR NOTHES: Okay, first things first… this chapter was intended to be a bit bigger, but I decided to split it, post some of it now (it's long overdue) and gauge some reactions. I do apologize, and you cannot see it, but I AM really sorry… for a while I was really thinking I had lost whatever drive I had to do this. I really did. I didn't feel motivated, everything I put down on the paper seemed to suck (and there may be some of you who'll read this and still agree with me, lol)… basically writing, that was somewhat a big piece of me, wasn't there anymore. I'm baby-stepping back into it, so I won't make deadlines, but I promise to do my best, because you all have been making it worth it. I guilt-tripped myself into reading all your reviews and messages and that seemed to jolt something back, so… THANK YOU ALL.

Special thanks to **chelseyb1010**, who is one of the most talented writers I've seen in my life, for all her encouragement and support lately. If you're open minded (and even if you're not… read her work!) about Harry's relationship with Tonks' stories, this is the girl you should be reading. Hun, I haven't been able to review some of your stuff in a while (and I'm going to do so as soon as I'm done uploading this) but just let me say: as far as one-shot goes, "The Spectrum of a Rainbow" may be one of the best stories ever published. Period. There's just no way to describe how beautiful it is.

Hope to hear from all of you again, soon. I promise I'll be around

Intervigilium


	16. Chapter 16

"Go on."

"What do you mean?"

"Go on."

Silence. _Damn it_, he thinks. She seems to read his thoughts. The entire room seems to hang in the balance, even though they've been in the kitchen for a while now and the elves look as busy as ever.

"I got all night, _monsieur_."

He sighs, conceding. "Fine. This **is** the best coffee I've ever had."

Her smile couldn't possibly be wider. It's so absolutely smug…

"However," he rests the drink briefly over the wooden table, "I'm not certain that it is so because of the beans or the fact that it was prepared on _my_ island. By one of our finest chefs," he nods lazily towards Dobby, who seems on the verge of a joy-induced heart attack.

"I will let slide the fact that you called it _your_ island," Fleur quips, clearly amused underneath her serious posture, "because… and this, I must admit… is true. It was wonderfully prepared, Dobby, thank you!"

The elf excuses himself, tears in his eyes, to the words "Miss Harry Potter's friend is so kind!" Fleur looks at Harry, concern in her eyes.

"Don't worry, if anything, he's about to crack his skull with excitement over your compliment."

"_Shouldn't_ we worry about that?" she almost leaves her chair. Harry quickly places a hand over hers, and feeling that it might have been awkward (because, well, it was; what was he thinking?), he just as quickly pulls it back.

"I used to, but nowadays I accept that I can't change him. And he heals like there's no tomorrow, so… let him _be happy_, I guess."

Fleur returns to her mug, looking sideways now and then to verify for blunt sounds coming from near walls. Harry smiles fondly. _She may not know much about elf behavior, but she treated one like she would treat anyone else. And this is the girl I thought to be pretentious and snob not that long ago…_

"You've never been around elves much, have you?"

"_Maman_ is always very strict about their 'efficiency' at our house," she admits somewhat sadly, "so we hardly ever see them, but my sister is fascinated with them ever since she read about their existence. I noticed once that she leaves small chocolates with thanking notes for them at her room. In the morning, the chocolates are there, but the notes are gone. I've always encouraged Gabi to continue doing so."

There's something in the way her sister's name comes out of her mouth; it speaks of a higher love, something Harry cannot quite understand, even though he feels a good share of it. He suddenly thinks of Padma and Parvati. "You and your sister seem pretty close", he comments, sipping coffee.

She eyes the mug; and simple as that may be, it's one of the most beautiful things Harry has ever seen. "Gabrielle is… I can't put into words. Did you ever look at someone and you wished nothing bad would cross that person's path? That all she knew was happiness, every second? She's a kind spirit, truly free from sin, like a child should be." And after a pause, concluded: "She is everything that I can hope to be on my very best day."

To his prolonged silence, Fleur tilted her head sideways. "Oh, it's nothing," he apologized, "it's just… beautiful. How you talk about her."

"I don't suppose those Muggle relatives of yours are that caring," she said, only somewhat apologetically. He raised his eyebrows, thankful for her lack of unnecessary pity. He hated being pitied.

"What?" she smiled behind the fumes of coffee gently dancing in front of her. "When it comes to you, there's much needed separation between what's fact or fabrication, so… are they, I mean…"

"Don't search too hard for a word, they're just… _them. _A family of Muggles, as fearful and mistrusting as they come. It's just how they're wired."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"It used to… more so when I was younger, because… well," Harry rested his mug on the table, eyes fixed on it in contemplation, "when you're a kid, a part of your happiness ends up associated with the happiness you see on other people, on how happy you assume they are… you know? And what I saw around me at school, the neighborhood..."

Harry stopped himself. _Where is this coming from…?_

"Harry?"

"Hm? Oh… sorry, I was just thinking about it all… I don't think I ever did much. You have a habit of doing that," he half-smiled, "making me think."

"Good. Maybe next time you're facing a dragon you'll have the presence of mind not to challenge it for a flight duel," she said raising her mug in salutation and rolling her eyes as if to say _"Lunatic…"_

"Please… you're just sour because you didn't think of it first," he laughed. _She's such a piece of work…_

"Yes, of course, Harry Potter… that's exactly it. Shame on me for not trying to dive head first into a dragon's mouth," she scoffed theatrically, laughing a few seconds later as well.

"But that's just it, you know," he resumed, "I used to be so mad at them for some things and nowadays I realize they were just… scared. It's not that I forgot what they did… I just get it a little more."

"So you'd jump in front of a spell for them, now?" she asked.

"Flawed as she may be, my aunt is still blood. My mother's blood." His tone was solemn and for a second the kitchen was very quiet. Then… "As for my uncle and cousin, well… it really depends on the spell."

Harry discovered yet again how he appreciated Fleur's laugh. She delicately poured more coffee for both of them, and Harry noticed her mouth twitched into a smile as Dobby returned to his errands at the kitchen, apparently unscathed and happy as he'd ever be.

The conversation went on for a while: Fleur had a natural gift for leading into new subjects and Harry had been a decent listener his entire life. Thing was, and he wouldn't realize until a while later, that he was participating much more than he usually bothered to do with anyone other than Ron or Hermione.

_Ron…_

"Something wrong, Harry?"

"No, no… just had a glimpse of a mess from tonight I still have to take care of," he half-smiled.

"Your friends' fight?"

"And then some," he breathed, "but it's nothing to worry about."

_At least I hope so…_

Fleur started to say something, but suddenly looked at the clock nearby, a sad expression on her face. "It's a bit late, Harry… and as much as it pains me to say so, I think I should go back to the carriage."

Pragmatic, Harry sprung to his feet in a fluid motion. "Of course; your friends and Madam Maxime must be worried." And in the time of a heartbeat he added "Would you like me to walk you there? It's a bit cold, and I don't have the heart to deny you the jacket until you're well inside your 'dorm'."

Fleur gave him the biggest smile of that night. "Such a gentleman… who would know," and she took one last sip of coffee, ignoring Harry's narrowed eyes to her almost snide retort. She wove her arm under Harry's, said her goodbyes to the elves (not before Dobby handed her a satchel with varying treats made especially for 'Miss Harry Potter's friend') and they walked back into the now colder corridors, the passage to the kitchens sealing itself with a dozen smiling elves waving behind it, at the same time they polished plates and prepared cakes.

Harry's uncanny knowledge of Hogwarts' corridors was useful to avoid possible patrolling teachers or the few remaining students still up (the boy started to feel dazed with visions of his bed as well). It still didn't save them, however, from being spotted by McGonagall on a patrol, her ever vigilant eyes faltering for a second at the sight of two Champions talking and laughing together. And (of course) the Weasley twins, who waltzed through the corridors with their dates at an opposite direction and saw a mere glimpse of the unusual couple.

_Boy, this will be fun to explain… I'll just pray they'll forget what they saw._

_Right…_

"Thank you", Fleur whispered after a few moments of silence.

Harry glanced sideways. "For not pressing on about why I was nearly crying when you found me," she added, looking straight ahead.

Harry shrugged slightly, not really realizing the importance of it. "I just figured you'd tell me if you felt comfortable about it. If not, that's cool too…as long as you know you can talk about it when you want to… you know?"

"I know," she half laughed, holding his gaze a little. They were nearing the entrance doors, still wide open. The carriage wasn't that far ahead.

"See? Got you here safe and sound. I don't know why people get the idea I'm a troublemaker."

"Says the boy who knew his way into the school's kitchen."

"Hey... people get hungry. And believe it or not, when I found that door I was a third party, not the expedition leader."

"So there was an expedition, now?"

"The less you know about it," he eyed her darkly, "the better." She laughed, their footsteps dampened in the grass.

"So what's your verdict on your first ball, _monsieur _Potter?" Fleur asked playfully, the carriage steps a few feet away now. Harry laughed, eying the sky, the deepened shades of blue and gray painting one of those magnificent dawns that Hogwarts constantly provided.

"I'll limit myself to saying it got better at the end," he quipped.

"That's a _very_ good answer."

"Figured it was the right one."

Fleur smiled, kindness and thankfulness and that usual plethora of good feelings that mixed somewhere along the curve or her lips. Too quick for him to react, she hugged him.

"_Je ne peux pas vous remercier assez pour ce soir."_ Her voice was again barely a whisper.

"That's not fair, you know," he laughed, his arms around her. "I'm barely learning the basics."

She lifted her face, tilting her head sideways. "Isn't that the truth?" And then, with a quick peck on his cheek and a "Good night, Harry," she started climbing the steps into the carriage.

Fleur was still wearing his jacket, but he made no move to retrieve it. He didn't feel that cold and he could get it later from her. _Wasn't planning to wear it every day, anyway…_

He twisted on the spot, starting to wonder if he should take a look at Padma and Parvati or just go collapse in his bed; it had been such a crazy night, and yet he found it hard to suppress a grin… he had half a mind to meet the twins and sleep at the Hospital Wing when something occurred to him. _Thanks, Neville._

"Hey, Fleur?"

Her frame was half inside the carriage when her head turned. "Harry?"

"Nice shoes."

AUTHOR NOTES: There is truly no excuse for how long it took to upload this… I truly apologize, because (and I can't stress this enough) you people are the reason I keep on writing anyway. Thank you so much for the support, for the reviews, the PMs… Life's been kinda crazy around here, but I promise (REALLY DO) that I'll try to keep the chapters coming more frequently. We must find space in our lives to do the things we love… I'm working on it…

**Werewolf007**, if you're still reading this, please correct my only French phrase here if there are any mistakes. I took a shot at it with very basic grammar knowledge, so… it's supposed to mean "I can't thank you enough for tonight."

This went through a lot of changes from its initial shape... I even have a small unedited piece that leads Harry to the Hospital and a small conversation with Parvati I can include here at the end, but I really wanted to finish the chapter with that line; if you dudes and dudettes feel I should include it, let me know… read, review if possible, and take care. Have a great weekend, kids. Hope to hear from you soon,

Intervigilium


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